


To Talk of Many Things

by mga1999, skyblue_reverie



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Co-Written, Epistolary, M/M, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-03-03
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-10-22 05:01:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 71
Words: 349,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mga1999/pseuds/mga1999, https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyblue_reverie/pseuds/skyblue_reverie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A correspondence between Doctor McCoy and Admiral Pike takes a turn for the romantical.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of Cabbages and Kings

_**trek fic: Of Cabbages and Kings**_  
Hello lovely people! So [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and I wrote an epistolary as a comment fic during the last battle at the ship wars. It's McCoy/PIKE, people. I BROKE MY OTP OMGOMG WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME. I blame [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) completely.

  
**Title:** Of Cabbages and Kings (Part 1 of the _To Talk of Many Things_ 'verse)  
 **Author:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)**skyblue_reverie**  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** PG-13 for language and mention of naughty bits in a medical context  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** around 4000  
 **Summary:** A correspondence between Doctor McCoy and Admiral Pike takes a turn for the romantical.  
 **Disclaimer:** Any resemblance to anything whatsoever is purely coincidental.  
 **A/N :** Might be the first in a series? WDK (We don't know). ~~Bribes of cookies and fic will totally be considered when we make this decision.~~ On a more serious note, we tried to be sensitive to the disability issues inherent in this pairing, while still keeping the guys (who are NOT known for their sensitivity) in character. I hope we succeeded, but please let us know if not. We ♥ PWDs!

  


From: Leonard H. McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Admiral Pike:

Just checking in to make sure you’re doing your physical therapy. I know it’s a pain in the ass but if you want to walk again, you’ve gotta do it. And no bitching about Nurse Traeger either – I know she’s got breath like a sewage plant, but she’s the best there is.

Things are going fine here. Jim’s only tried to get himself killed twice and has only pissed off one alien government by sleeping with their president’s daughter, so I think we’re doing pretty well so far.

I enjoyed getting to know you when we were on earth, sir. Maybe next time I’m earthside we can get a drink and catch up? After I check you over and make sure you’ve been following your p.t. regime, of course. And if you haven’t, I’m going to give you hell.

-Leonard McCoy

To: Leonard H. McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dr. McCoy:

Glad to hear from you. Nurse Traeger and her breath are the least of my problems. You haven't met my p.t. therapist, or should I say Drill Sergeant. You remember those classic Rambo movies? Or maybe closer to that one guy, what was he called, The Rock? Imagine them, but bigger and meaner. After my first real session with him, I couldn't move again for days. Yes, it's better now, but not much.

I'm trying not to get discouraged, because that seems like it would diminish the miraculous work you did on the Enterprise to even get me this far. I've never been a man to take things sitting down, so I'm not giving up. You told me it wasn't going to be an easy road, but what I didn't realize was how lonely it would be. Not that I don't get visitors, but when you are stuck in a bed or a chair... I'm really starting to feel isolated I guess. Enough about me.

I'm actually surprised that Jim has only tried to get himself killed twice. The expected numbers were much higher in the betting pool. I'm sure the only reason it's so low is you're there. You've always had a way with him, which is why I did everything I could to make sure you were together to keep each other safe. I worry about you both.

I look forward to having a drink with you.

-Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard H. McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Chris:

I hope it’s all right to call you that. You signed your last email with that, and I’m generally not one to stand on formalities anyway. Jim gets ridiculously smug when I call him “Captain,” so I save it for special occasions. Can’t have his ego getting even more inflated than it already is.

You’re seeing Kirala for p.t., right? Yeah, he’s tough, but he’s good. And the extra arms really help him to make sure you’re positioned correctly when you do your exercises.

I can’t believe those Starfleet bastards are letting you get isolated. They should be falling all over themselves to kiss your ass every single day. You did as much as anyone to save the god damned planet, after all. Anyway, getting out and about and interacting with people is just as much a part of your recovery as the p.t. So stop feeling sorry for yourself, go out and do something you enjoy. _With other people_. If you’re seeing someone, you should take them out.

I, ah, meant to thank you for making sure Jim and I got assigned to the same ship. That fool gets more reckless every day, if such a thing is possible. I reign him in as much as I can, and as much as I don’t like the pointy-eared bastard, Spock keeps him in check too. No one can stop the raging libido, though. Although I did threaten to hypo him with a drug that’ll render him impotent if he doesn’t stop throwing himself in the way of every projectile coming at one of his crew.

Life here is okay, but it’s damned dull when it’s not terrifying. I miss the sky and actual fresh air. And don’t get me started on this synthehol crap. Don’t suppose you could pull some strings to get us planetside. Nah, never mind. I wouldn’t want to put you in that position.

I’ll hold you to the drink, though, next time I’m there.

-Len

To: Leonard H. McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Len:

Please, I have never been one for formalities unless I have to be. Like I told Jim when I recruited him, Starfleet was in great need of a new direction, new blood. Sometimes I think they stand on stodgy old traditions a bit too much for what it's worth.

Yes, it's Kirala for p.t. And yeah, I guess I have to agree the extra arms have been helpful, especially when I'm about to keel over. Between you and me, he's started flirting with me. And those extra arms mean he's extra handsy, and I'm not enjoying it like a certain Captain we both know would. And speaking of him, I have found myself having to limit calling him 'Captain' myself. I swear last time I vid commed with him, his head didn't fit at the top of the screen.

Don't blame Starfleet for my isolation, Len. It's probably my fault. I'm feeling sorry for myself. Hate going places in the chair. Hate having to depend on anyone. I've been alone a long time, Len. It's been just me and whatever ship I was on. So no, I'm not seeing anyone. And being like this doesn't exactly make me a catch.

I know you like transporters even less than shuttles, but you should try to get down to the surface whenever you can. It will help with how you're feeling about being on the ship. Trust me. Plus, there is the extra advantage of being down there to keep Jim out of trouble.

And don't worry, they generally don't leave new crews out too long before bringing them back. I'll be glad to see what I can do. I could really use that drink.

-Chris

From: Leonard H. McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Chris,

Damn it, man, Kirala flirting and getting grabby with you is completely unacceptable. I’ve made some calls to people I know at Starfleet Medical and ripped ‘em a new one for allowing that to go on underneath their noses. And don’t worry, I didn’t tell them that you were the one to tip me off. I have plenty of patients who are seeing or have seen him for p.t. Anyway, he’s been reassigned and he won’t be using those extra hands of his for doing anything more than scrubbing floors and cleaning bedpans from now on.

Your isolation might be self-imposed, Chris, but that doesn’t mean that those around you don’t share in the blame for it. If I were there I’d haul you outta bed myself and make you go do something. And I don’t want to hear any crap about you not being a catch. You’re still the same person you were, chair or no chair, and anyone would be lucky to be with you. You’re a damned good man, a certified hero, and handsome to boot. So don’t let me hear you putting yourself down.

I am worried about you, though. With all you’ve been through – hell, all you’re still going through - you’re at much higher risk for clinical depression. I’m gonna attach to this email the contact info for several psychiatrists and psychologists I know. Give one of them a call, all right?

Also – and good lord this is awkward – but as your doctor, I need to know: has your sexual functioning returned? Have you been able to achieve and maintain an erection, and have you had an orgasm? If not, it’s not cause for concern, but I’d like to keep an eye on that because you are not ready to be put out to pasture yet, and sex is an important part of life. It’s not the only part, as someone we know seems to think, but it is significant.

All right, moving on. Yeah, I go down on nearly every away mission – some idiot’s always getting hurt and needing medical attention, and it isn’t even always Jim. But alien planets and alien skies – well, I’ll admit it’s interesting, and sometimes beautiful, but I’m a homebody at heart. Give me real Terran soil and blue skies any day. I’d have pushed for a planetside posting, but I couldn’t let Jim go gallivanting off on his own. Maybe someday, if he grows up, settles down a little, I’ll think about transferring off this flying death-trap. And yes, I know the Enterprise is your baby too, but I’m not one for space travel. You know that.

Speaking of Terran soil, I just heard that we’re going to be heading to earth for some repairs that apparently can’t be done anywhere but earth’s space dock. You wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with that, would you? If you did, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know. As I learned from rooming with Jim for three years at the Academy, plausible deniability is the best defense.

Anyway, it looks like we’ll be there in a few weeks. And you are coming out with me, like it or not. No moping around in bed. Pick your favorite spot and we’ll go have a drink or a bite.

Take care of yourself (and I mean that literally),  
Len

To: Leonard H. McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Len,

I've never been one to mince words and have been told more times than I can count that I'm a pretty blunt and to the point guy, but I think I have met my match in that regard. Now I know why Jim looks up to you so much. It's nice to have someone who isn't blowing sunshine up my ass like everyone around here seems to be. From the beginning, you have been honest and answered every question I had when others have given me the run around. You don't know how much I appreciate that.

I will admit, I am probably as much to blame for the situation with Kirala as he was. I do know, however, that someone in my condition should obviously not be made to feel as uncomfortable as I was. I called a psychologist after your last e-mail and had an appointment with her yesterday. While I wasn't thrilled that all the names you gave me were female, I understand why you did now. So thank you. I had a good talk with her, and then commed my old friend Philip Boyce. I believe you met him a time or two. And by the way, he agrees with everything you've said, so consider my ass kicked twice.

I made myself go out to dinner tonight with Admiral Barnett and his wife. He'd been asking since Kirk's commendation ceremony and I'd been putting him off. And while I'm not ready to fill my social calendar again quite yet, I promise that I will go out at least twice a week, even if it's only over to the mess to eat with the other cadets. I went and sat in on a tactics class this morning, and I'll admit it felt nice to be able to contribute. If I never get out of this chair, at least I know I might have a shot at being an instructor.

I know you don't like space, believe me, I know. In fact I'm going to tell you something very few people know. I was almost like you once. I had this unbelievable fear of space. Not so much flying. Shuttles, I never had a problem with. But the first time I went off planet with my parents when I was eight? I caused so much trouble on the shuttle they had to return to Earth. Obviously, I got over it. In fact I joined Starfleet when I was seventeen to force myself to get over it. I love space and can't imagine never being out on a ship again, so don't sell yourself short that you won't grow to love it too. You're far too talented to be wasted dirtside. Not everyone has what it takes to be CMO, Len. There are far too many ships out there that aren't lucky enough to have a great doctor like you.

So now, I've run out of things to talk about except the awkward part. And I have to tell you, so far, you and Philip have been the only ones to broach that subject with me. He said they usually broach this subject a little further down the road, but he always felt that was wrong. And you are both right, I think part of the reason I was making myself so isolated is because I am feeling like a lesser man. Whether you or anyone say differently, that's how I feel. And no, things aren't quite working down there yet. So your answer to everything would be no. Philip said not to worry. The psychologist told me not to worry. But hell, Len, I'm worried. It's bad enough being in the chair, but if I can be so blunt, not being able to get an erection, or the thought of that part of my life being over? I think that scares me the most.

I've been Starfleet all my life, to the detriment of my social life. I did try marriage once, and it failed. And honestly it was my fault. I didn't care about anything but space and whatever ship I was on. But in the back of my mind, I planned on taking the Enterprise out for her five years and then accepting Admiral and coming back, maybe teaching a few years and finding someone to settle down with out in the desert when I was done.

So hell, Len. I feel like I'm imposing on you telling you all this, but I have to admit, I enjoy the letters we've been sending back and forth to each other. And I'll be blunt, I'd like to get to know you better. But I feel like I shouldn't given my current condition. It wouldn't be fair, and you deserve a whole heck of a lot more than I could give you.

If you don't want to have that drink anymore after what I've said here, I understand.

Be safe,

Chris

From: Leonard H. McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Chris,

I’ll get to the point first and then respond to the rest of your email. Yes, I’m interested. No, you’re not a lesser man. You let _me_ decide what I “deserve” or not, and as I said earlier, anyone would be lucky to have you. And dammit man, of course I still want to have that drink. I’d want to do that even if my answer was no – I hope your opinion of me is better than that. But since my answer isn’t no, we’ll definitely get together. And since it’ll be a – hell, I guess “date” is the right word, although that makes me feel like a goddamn teenager - can I take you to dinner instead?

Now, moving on to awkward topic #2. In all likelihood, your sexual functioning will return to normal over the course of the next few months. You’ve got to give it time. And no matter what, that part of your life is not over. Human sexuality is more about the brain than the body anyway, and I’ve had permanently paralyzed patients who had very satisfying sex lives. But we’ll take it one step at a time, and I don’t think that will be your situation. And here’s where I have to make an embarrassing confession – you know that new neural growth stimulator that’s been in all the medical journals? Well, probably not. Anyway, I know the guy who invented it, and I had him send me a working prototype. I’ve just done some computer modeling with it so far, but I think it might make your recovery a hell of a lot faster. I – oh lord this sounds bad – I’ve been modeling the neural regeneration of the nerves involved in sexual response, not just those involved in mobility, and the results are very promising. I swear I didn’t have any ulterior motives when I started this project. I was just doing it as your doctor and friend, and I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to give you false hope if it was a bust. I’ll show you my results when I’m there, and we can discuss possible treatment scenarios.

All right, thank god that’s all over with. At least since we’re the both to-the-point, we’ll never be in any doubt as to what’s on each other’s minds.

I’m glad you’ve been getting out and meeting with people. Listen to me, certified misanthrope, encouraging you to socialize more. Jim would laugh his ass off. You know – your mentioning possibly being an instructor got me thinking. That’s a damn good idea – the best thing for you would be to get back to work, have something to focus your energy on. Could you be a temporary instructor? Teach a class or two while you’re planetside and then hand ‘em off to someone else when it’s time to move on? I bet any number of starry-eyed cadets would love to take tactics from you.

As to me and space – I doubt I’ll ever grow to love it. Tolerate, yeah. Appreciate, maybe. But I’ve seen that gleam in your eye that you and Jim both get when you talk about exploration and deep space missions, and it’s just not me. I really do appreciate your sharing your story with me, Chris, and don’t think I’m not honored and flattered that you trusted me enough to tell me that. But don’t hold your breath that I’ll become a fanatic about space. And as for all that nonsense about my being uniquely qualified to be a CMO and being wasted dirtside, well, pardon my language, but bullshit. I’m just a country doctor, and it’s just as important and fulfilling to save lives and heal people on a planet – even if they’re just regular folk, not Starfleet personnel - as it is in space. Being a doctor isn’t what I do, Chris, it’s what I am. I’m a healer, as corny as it sounds. And life is life to me, whether the patient is a hover-bike mechanic or a starship captain. Er, sorry to go off on a tangent there. I’ll get off my soapbox now. Anyway, point is that I’ve already found my calling, and it isn’t exploration. But that’s all right – I’ve been dragged into it anyway and I do love my job here on the Enterprise. DON’T tell Jim I said that.

Well, that’s probably enough seriousness for one day. I’m going to go find Spock and goad him into an emotional reaction - that’s always good for a chuckle. No emotions, my ass.

I, ah, I’m really looking forward to seeing you.

Take care,  
Len

To: Leonard H. McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Len,

First, I'll get to the point. Yes, I'd love to have dinner with you. Now you have a fifty-two-year-old man blushing.

As for my physical condition, I'm trying to believe what you told me. I've done some research, so yes, I'm feeling better about that for now. And God, Len, knowing you have gone to all that trouble and research to help me... Well, I'm not one for emotion most of the time either, which is why Spock and I always worked well together. I have to confess that I still have a pretty big lump in my throat just thinking about what you are working on. And don't give me that shit about it just being your job as a doctor. Country doctor my ass. They don't manipulate and re-model neurons on the dirt floor of their back office.

You sell yourself way too short, Len. And sure, I get that you'd be happy being that country doctor you seem to think yourself as. But I've been on a lot of ships, and seen a lot of CMOs come and go. But I'm telling you, the way you took over on the Enterprise and handled that desperate situation and aftermath... I'll be honest here. I don't think Dr. Puri would have done as well. You saved lives that he couldn't have and you know it, including mine. You are the epitome of what a Chief Medical Officer in Starfleet should be. So quit shaking your head and accept the compliment. That's an order, Lt. Commander!

I took your advice and spoke to Admiral Komack about doing a seminar on tactics during the winter break for any cadets not going home. He might have something part time for me in the spring, but in the meantime, I'm going to fill in as a sub and make myself available for lectures. I don't know how good I'll be at it, but since I had designs on doing that down the road, it can't hurt to get started.

I'll be honest, Len. I'm struggling. I'm a Starfleet Captain, these Admiral stripes be damned. I'm used to the unknown to some degree, but when no one can tell me truly if I'll walk again or when, I'm not dealing with that very well. If someone could tell me I'll be walking in 6.8 months, or running in a year, or that I'll be back on a ship in two, I could handle that. I would treat it just like a mission and see what I could do to shave some time off those numbers or make it safer and more productive. This not knowing, not having anything tangible to focus on, makes going through the p.t. and everything else... well, I'm not giving up, but there are days lately when I want to, and just accept that my fate lies in this chair.

And before you go getting all worried and comming my psychologist, I've talked to her about this and she assures me it's normal. And once you take a deep breath, you know it's normal too. I'm not giving up, Len. I believed you on the Enterprise that I'd walk again. And I'm believing you when you say that I'm not a lesser man even though I feel like that right now. I'm just admitting that this unknown thing is new for me. Jim and I are a lot alike in that regard. I was just as cocky and brash as he was when I was first Captain, even though I was many years older. That's what drew me to him in that bar, and why I knew he had a chance to be the greatest Starfleet Captain we've ever had if given a chance. And God, don't tell him I said that. Kid's head just keeps getting bigger and bigger on my vid screen.

I'm going to close now before I embarrass myself more. You think _you_ are bad at this stuff? Well, you seem to be doing just fine compared to the blubbering fool I'm feeling like right now. I'll see you in a week. I'm looking forward to our dinner.

Be safe, and take care,

Chris

p.s. You need to have a word with a certain egotistical Captain who's decided to stick his nose into our business. I had an interesting comm from him last night. If I may quote: "You take my CMO from my ship, Admiral, and there isn't an outpost in this galaxy where I won't find you. Otherwise, you both have my blessings and I'm sure Bones will have you up and running in no time. Fuck knows he needs to get laid." Don't be too hard on him. And since this will probably make you want to bring out that hypospray that will make him impotent, you might want to rethink that. Do you really want to put up with a Jim Kirk in that condition? Didn't think so.

To: James T. Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard H. McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

JIM, GET YOUR NOSY, INTERFERING ASS TO SICKBAY, NOW.

  
The End.....???


	2. Of Sails and Ships and Sealing Wax

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) (the loud one): Okay, so this thing is definitely going to be a series. I've cheated on my Jim/Bones OTP repeatedly now, and I'm planning to keep right on doing it. I REGRET NOTHING. From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) (the quiet one): I want to THANK everyone for the wonderful feedback on our fic. I have read every comment, but am letting [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)**skyblue_reverie** handle the replies because she is so much better at it than I am. Really. What started out as a 'we could do this for fun for ship wars' has turned into something that has taken over both of our minds. We have been having so much fun writing this together and look forward to writing more. So THANK YOU!

**Title:** Of Sails and Ships and Sealing Wax (Part 2 of _To Talk of Many Things_ \- yeah, guess that means this is now a WiP. Whoops?)  
 **Authors:** and  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** PG-13-ish, for sexual innuendo (*gasp*)  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** around 7000  
 **Summary:** The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike.  
 **Disclaimer:** Any resemblance to anything whatsoever is purely coincidental.  
 **Authors' Notes:** From (the loud one): Okay, so this thing is definitely going to be a series. I've cheated on my Jim/Bones OTP repeatedly now, and I'm planning to keep right on doing it. I REGRET NOTHING. From (the quiet one): I want to THANK everyone for the wonderful feedback on our fic. I have read every comment, but am letting handle the replies because she is so much better at it than I am. Really. What started out as a 'we could do this for fun for ship wars' has turned into something that has taken over both of our minds. We have been having so much fun writing this together and look forward to writing more. So THANK YOU! 

 

_Prologue:_

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: James T. Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)

Dear Admiral Pike:

I am writing to apologize for hacking into the email correspondence between you and Doctor McCoy.

Fuck, I sound like a little kid who's been caught stealing and his mom is making him write a letter of apology (and I'd know). But that's how I feel.

Damn, Chris, you should have seen Bones. I've never seen him that mad, ever, and I've pulled some stupid shit in my day. He wasn't even doing the raging and snorting like an angry bull thing. He was _quiet_ and _calm_. It was scary as shit. He told me that I'd broken the trust between me and him, and that I'd broken the trust between me and you. He also said that it was going to take time to repair the damage I'd done to my friendship with him, and probably with you too, and that hurts worst of all, because I know I deserve it.

I didn't mean to hurt either of you, or give you cause to distrust me, but I did, and for that I am truly sorry. I'm also sorry for - how did he put it? - "making light of a sensitive medical topic." I hope you know how much I value your mentorship and respect you as a person and an officer. And you already know how much Bones means to me. That I jeopardized either of those relationships - lesson learned.

I won't do it again. Well - let me qualify that. I won't do it again, unless it's a dire emergency. Fuck, Chris, if I never see Bones that mad again it'll be too soon.

I know it'll take time to earn back your trust, and if there's anything I can do, please let me know. Again, I really am sorry.

Respectfully,  
James T. Kirk

 

To: James T. Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Kirk -

Apology accepted. Take an old man to dinner when you're planetside next week and we'll call it even.

Pike

 

***

 

To: Leonard H. McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

The blank cursor has been blinking at me for twenty minutes now. I don't know why I suddenly find myself unsure what to say. Maybe it's because you only left a couple hours ago, but I still felt compelled to sit down and write to you. Since we have both been honest and upfront, I will admit I'm feeling a little uncertain now that you aren't here. Oh hell, I can look a Klingon in the eye without blinking, and right now, I'd almost rather do that than write this letter. _Almost_. So I guess it's time to stop being something I'm usually not, a coward, and just tell you what's on my mind.

I _really_ enjoyed the time we spent together this week. I didn't know what to expect when we went to dinner. I want to thank you for... well, you made me feel like the chair didn't matter that night. I wasn't sure how to tell you this during the week, and I'm sorry I didn't. I know there were a lot of times this week that were awkward, and I take the blame for that. I wasn't myself. At all. I was afraid of messing things up. I told you I'm not good at these things. I can handle going to a bar, a starbase or a planet and finding someone to take home for the night, but I haven't had to think about anything beyond that for years. To be honest, I haven't wanted to. Going to Vanelli's at the old pier, the table by the window overlooking the bay, our easy conversation, and the _walk_ after... If I said what I feel about that right now, I'd sound like a teenage girl instead of the hot-shot Captain of a flagship that I used to be.

I want to say more about the rest of the week, but I'm tired, have a headache, and I'm not feeling that well, to be honest, so I'm going to turn in. I just felt like I needed to say _something_ before time passed since we kind of left things on an awkward note earlier.

Again, my fault. And I'm sorry.

Chris

p.s. I encoded these e-mails with my Admiral-level decryption cypher. That should keep Jim out, or it might make him even more determined. Damn kid can crack anything. But I don't think he'll bother us anymore.

 

From: Leonard H. McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

Good god, man, stop apologizing! You're making me feel like I've kicked a puppy, here. Okay, so we're both a little rusty at this. We'll figure it out. Cowardice, my ass. You don't have a cowardly bone in your body.

I have to admit it was nice to get back to my quarters after shift and find your note waiting for me. I had - well, I had a really great time spending the week with you. I'm going to say this once, and I'm not given to lying, so do not piss me off by doubting me: _the chair does not matter_. You are _you_ , chair or no chair, and you're an extremely attractive man in every way. Don't think I didn't notice all the people checking you out when we were out together, and don't insult my intelligence by telling me they were staring because you're in a wheelchair. I know a lustful look when I see one - I am Jim's best friend, after all, and he both gives and receives far more than his fair share of them. Anyway, I'm not going to enumerate all of your fine qualities, because then _I_ would sound like a teenage girl, but you must know what an incredible person you are.

The awkwardness wasn't all you. Hell, I'm feeling awkward too. _Not_ because of the chair - don't ever think that. But I'm dating - if that's the right word - an admiral. And an incredibly celebrated one at that. Yeah, I'm friends with Jim so I'm used to all the groupies swarming whenever we're out somewhere together on earth, but this is different. And on top of all that, it's been a while since I've even contemplated getting serious about someone. I'm sure you know my divorce with Jocelyn was a goddamned nightmare - after all, you saw the shape I was in on the shuttle for new recruits. Anyway, I won't go into details about the marriage and divorce because even I am not _that_ tacky and insensitive. But I haven't felt any desire to pursue anything romantic with anyone since my divorce. Now that's changing, and yeah, it makes me feel a bit at sea.

And even more than that - oh, hell, this is embarrassing. I haven't been with anyone since my divorce. I mean, I haven't had sex since the divorce. Just didn't feel the desire, and I guess I'm an old-fashioned guy, but I prefer for there to be some kind of emotion between me and a sex partner, beyond just "Hey, you're hot, I'm horny, let's hook up," which seems to be Jim's mantra. And I guess yours too, from what you said in your email. Not that I'm judging. It's just... not me. So suddenly feeling a strong physical attraction to someone, which I do, by the way, is also kind of strange for me.

Looking back at this, I'm making it sound like I've already picked out matching wedding rings and a goddamn china pattern. I'm tempted to delete it all, but I'll leave it, because if I rewrote it it wouldn't come out any better. But believe me when I say I'm not trying to force you into any sort of long-term commitment.

All right, changing the subject now before I come across like even _more_ of an idiot. I had a great time at Vanelli's too. And the walk afterwards was really nice, even if those sea lions did stink to high heaven. But most of all, it was good to breathe fresh air, walk on real Terran soil, and spend time with someone because I genuinely wanted to be there with them, not because I'm stuck in a flying tin can with them for months on end. And that goodnight kiss - well, you were there too so I won't go into detail, but damn, it was amazing. And now I'm completely embarrassed so I'm going to move on.

It was really interesting to sit in on the guest lecture you did for Newsom's tactics class. When Jim goes on and on about strategy, it goes so far over my head that I find myself tuning out, and when I took tactics at the Academy it was one of the most boring things I've ever had to do, and so basic that a five-year-old could have aced it. But the way you talked about it was really impressive - interesting and challenging enough to keep everyone's attention (and yes, I checked), but not so advanced that us non-command folks couldn't follow it. You must know that at least half of the cadets have a major case of hero-worship going on. And more than a few have a serious crush as well. In fact, I overheard two of them discussing... how did they put it? Your "dreamy cerulean eyes." And other parts of your anatomy that I'm not going to repeat here because I am, in fact, a gentleman.

Well, I think I've made enough of a fool of myself for now, so I'll sign off. I hope you took something for that headache and got plenty of rest. You've got to take care of yourself - god knows you captain types are liable to sacrifice your physical health for no good reason. I've told Jim this and I'll tell you: it doesn't make you more of a man to refuse necessary medical treatment. It makes you a moron.

And on that note, good night. I hope you're doing well.

Take care,  
Len

p.s. I ripped Jim up one side and down the other when I found out he'd hacked our emails. So he knows better than to do that again if he wants to keep all his limbs. The admiral decryption can't hurt, though.

 

To: Leonard H. McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

In all the time I have known you, I always wondered what on earth you and Jim Kirk could possibly have in common, that you became such good friends. I'd see you two around campus when I was there. Even observed the two of you at a bar one night. I never got it until now, getting to know you better through our letters. And while I realized recently that you have a certain ability to reign Jim in -- well, as much as that is possible -- what you really have is his complete and unconditional trust. Obviously because of your no-holds-barred honesty. You were the one person who didn't care who the hell his father was, and flat out wasn't afraid to tell him when he was fucking up. And most importantly to Jim, I'm sure, is you've never left him behind, like everyone else in his life did. You two could not be more opposite, but where it matters you are both the same. Honest, trustworthy, and would do anything for someone you care about, despite your completely opposite personalities. I get it now. And I've got to tell you, I feel damned lucky right now, to know you both, and to be getting to know _you_ better.

Let me back up here. First of all, I am feeling better. And while I don't think I am quite as stubborn as Jim is about medical attention, at his age I probably was. So there is hope that someday, twenty years down the road, he _will_ come to you when he's not feeling well or has been injured. And don't shake your head at me that you won't be in space with Jim twenty years from now. If that's where he is, that's where you'll be and you know it. And no, this isn't my way of out of this 'dating' thing we appear to be doing. Or, as I believe you call it in the South...courting. And I have to say, I am not at all opposed to that and have the blush on my face right now to prove it.

That night during your visit, when you assisted at Starfleet Medical with the brain stem grafting, Jim came and took me to dinner. It was a chance for us to catch up. And we had a great time. I have become very fond of him, as you know, and I couldn't be prouder if he were my own son. I expect nothing less than for him, _and_ you, to take the universe by storm and do great things for the Federation. What surprised me at dinner was how utterly protective he is of you. I probably would have laughed, if he wasn't being so serious. I'm not kidding, Len. I pretty much got the 'You hurt my friend and I will break you' speech from him -- not in those exact words, but it might as well have been. I don't think he was amused by my asking if I needed his permission to 'date' you. Needless to say, he apologized for nosing in before, and promised he wouldn't do so _unless_ I gave him reason to. In other words, he's going to kick my proverbial ass whether it's in this chair or not if I don't treat you right.

So I guess it's time to put my cards on the table here. I am _very_ attracted to you whether I can physically do much about it right now it or not. You are a beautiful man, Leonard McCoy. I don't know if anyone has ever told you that, but it's true. And yes, if I wasn't in this chair, I would have done more than kiss you that first night. I'm not sure what exactly you want me to say about my past. To me it seems like what you said about your divorce... insensitive. We both have pasts. And yes, I am more like Jim Kirk, but I have changed as I've gotten older. That's why I tried marriage ten years ago. It didn't work out, but I will tell you this, I never cheated. I may not be as old-fashioned as you are, but I have always taken the relationships I've had in my life very seriously. The best ones, unfortunately, have been with a starship or two. I have a feeling, if I may be so bold, that _you_ are going to change that.

There are nights I lie in my bed and try to talk myself out of this. I wonder if the twenty-year difference in age is too much. Whether I really want to spend my life waiting for whatever shore leave or strategically planned rendevous our ships can have somewhere together. And yes, during the week you were here, you _did_ make me believe that I will not only walk again, but get command back of whatever ship I am worthy of. And stop your huffing because like I said above, you aren't going anywhere Jim Kirk isn't, and I am telling you, I don't have a problem with that. I figure I can have just my ship and whatever nameless, faceless man or woman I choose for the evening, and still feel completely alone. Or not be alone anymore, and have whatever time together we can get. I'm going to choose the latter, like any man in his right mind would.

Now who's picking out china patterns?

I'm sorry I let it get awkward after our last night together. I was frustrated that I couldn't take what we did on the couch further. I should have come to see you off the next morning, but I guess I was - well, you can probably guess what I was feeling. I won't apologize more since you keep telling me not to. I'll just have to promise to make it up to you next time I see you. Maybe I'll have to take a little trip next time you're going to be somewhere for a decent length of time. I'm told these Admiral stripes are good for things like that.

Yours, and I mean that,  
Chris

 

From: Leonard H. McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

Good lord, you're going to give me an ego to match Jim's if you keep this up! Speaking of that particular devil, yeah, you're definitely not the only one to wonder how on earth our friendship works. Then there are the regular rumors that we're more than friends. "People always have their minds in the gutter," my grandmother used to say. The truth is, I can't really explain what makes it work. We just clicked somehow, that very first day we met, and we've been pretty much glued together ever since. I've never had a friend like him - and, all things considered, that's probably a good thing. And I'm pretty sure he's never had someone who's stuck by him like I have, for better or worse (he'd probably tell you it's mostly been for worse). So I guess it's not too surprising that he gave you "the speech" when he took you to dinner. I'm not sure whether to be flattered by his concern or offended that he thinks I can't look out for myself. I guess, as usual, I'll settle on some combination of both.

I do know you see Jim like a son in some ways, and you've got to know that you're the closest to a father figure that he's ever had. I don't know how much you know about his childhood, but growing up, his stepfather... well, it's not my story to tell. But Chris, it'd kill me if I thought that that would be taken away from Jim, if you and I don't work out. He needs you in his life, and I won't be the thing that drives you two apart. So you've got to promise me that no matter what happens with us, you won't let him push you away. And I'll do my damndest to make sure that he doesn't do anything irrevocably stupid either, all right?

Damn, now I'm depressing myself. It's just... well, you've heard the expression "Prepare for the worst, hope for the best"? Well, my motto is the first half of that. I rarely hope for the best, but I always prepare for the worst.

Speaking of which... I've been giving a lot of thought to what you said, about how if Jim's still on this tin can in 20 years, I'll be right here by his side. And the thing is, I've already wrecked one relationship by prioritizing my work above my partner. I don't want to make that mistake again. But Jim... well, he needs me. I don't know what'll happen with you and me, so maybe it'll never be an issue, but Chris, if it does become serious, well... you might be satisfied with whatever time we can grab together, but I won't be. I can tell you that much. When I'm in a relationship I'm _in_ it, and a few stolen moments aren't going to cut it. But I couldn't leave Jim like everyone else has. I just don't see a way out of that fix, and it's driving me a little bit crazy. I can't choose between you two, but I can't help feeling like one day, I'm going to have to. But then, I know I'm getting way ahead of myself. I'll try to take a page from Jim's book and worry about the future when it gets here. It's not really how I'm made, but I'll try.

Hell, Chris, that night on the couch was one of the single hottest encounters of my life. Straddling your lap, feeling your hands on my back and, well, lower - running my fingers through your hair and kissing like the world was going to end any damn minute... I haven't been that close to coming in my pants since I got to second base with Jenny Lindstrom when I was 15. When you didn't show up the next morning, I thought I was pushing things too fast, that I had scared you off. I'm at least relieved to learn that's not the case. Look, I don't want to make you do anything you're uncomfortable with, but if it's that you wanted to take things _further_... well, you wouldn't have gotten any objection from me. Whether or not you can have an orgasm right now, there are still plenty of things we can do that we'd both enjoy. When you take advantage of your admiral stripes to come visit me (a plan I thoroughly approve of, by the way), we can try a few of them out.

I've reviewed your latest neurological scans, and the regeneration looks like it's going well. Right in line with my projections, so at this rate it won't be long before you regain full function in any case. Which actually brings up another question - I'm still listed as one of your treating physicians, and because of that, I have full access to your medical file. I've been keeping on top of your treatment and staying in touch with your current med team because, well, I don't trust that anyone else will be as careful or as thorough as I would. But it's a fine line, ethically, to treat someone that you're involved with. I might gain information as your doctor that I, as your - whatever the hell we are to each other - wouldn't get. So if you want me to remove myself as your doctor I will, and then I won't have access to your confidential medical files. Of course I'd still be available if you ever wanted to ask my advice on something. Anyway, it's up to you, but I at least wanted to give you the choice.

Sorry that this letter was a downer. On a brighter note, Jim got that treaty signed with the Uxtaxians that the brass was all het up about. I'm sure you'll hear that through official channels soon enough, but I wanted to let you know. And while we were down on their planet, I picked up a little something for you. Nothing fancy, just something I thought you'd like. Not gonna tell you what it is - that'll have to wait until you come see me. Call it incentive.

Yours (and it's scary as hell to write that, but it's true),  
Len

 

To: Leonard H. McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

Your letter was certainly not a 'downer' regardless of what you think. Of course, if you were writing to tell me you'd changed your mind about pursuing whatever this is, I might have a different answer for _that_. If I may use a word _my_ grandmother was fond of, I find your letters _endearing_ and they are the highlight of my day. Which again, makes me sound quite pathetic, but I mean it. And seeing your face on the video comm last week from Starbase 33, well, it was good to _see_ and talk to you, even if Jim interrupted us before we got to really talk about things. But that's okay, and I can only speak for myself, but I was a little nervous talking to you. In that tongue-tied, butterflies-in-my-stomach way. Which, considering my age...well, I haven't felt this way in a _long_ time and I decided after careful thought, I could either continue being embarassed about it, or just enjoy it. So I'm trying the latter, but don't be surprised if you make an old man blush next time you do that.

I appreciate your candor regarding the ethics of you continuing to be on my medical team. But no, I do not want you to remove yourself as my treating physician. Even before we started - okay, I'm going to be bold here and call it a relationship. There, I said it. I consider us in a relationship. Or if we've both been acting like teenage girls, does it mean we're going steady? Do they still call it that? Yes, I am a Starfleet Admiral. I think the cadets' hero worship would go out the door if they saw me fumbling through this. Now where was I? Oh yes, I was going to say that even before we started writing and before this _relationship_ , it helped knowing that even though you weren't here anymore, you were still keeping an eye on my care. You're a damn fine doctor, Leonard McCoy. You are one of Starfleet's finest. I wouldn't have a chance in hell of walking again if it wasn't for you. And before you go getting any ideas in your mind that my interest in you is because you saved my life, stop. Give yourself some credit, doctor. Your ego _should_ be as big as Jim's.

Speaking of that little devil, as you fondly call him. I'll admit, that part of your letter left me... well, I admit, made me question pursuing this - but only for a minute. I would _never_ want you to choose between me and Jim. Hopefully you'll never have to. I know that Jim needs you. I know that _you_ need Jim too, whether you are willing to admit that or not. I told you I get it. In some ways I _envy_ both of you. I've known Philip Boyce the entire time I've been in Starfleet, but even after thirty-five years, we aren't as close as you and Jim are. Let me also say that further down the road, _if_ things continue like I hope they will, I wouldn't exactly be okay with being away from you either. I didn't mean to imply that would be enough for me. Maybe it's because I'm older, maybe it's because I've been alone so long - Len, I simply feel like I'd rather have you however I can get you, than not at all. But it won't be forever. With so much out of our hands, and with the dangers we face, the future isn't guaranteed anyway. No, it isn't easy thinking like Jim does, but once you've been in the black long enough, I think you'll understand it more. I've never asked you what your intentions were when you joined Starfleet. I know you were getting away from everything that happened. For all I know you were planning on putting in your time, getting your life back in order, and getting right back out. And then you got caught in the orbit of Jim Kirk. Or more like sucked into the black hole he practically sprung from. I get it. So think about it. I'm not going anywhere, Len, and before you start blustering at me, I don't mean that literally.

As far as using these stripes to come see you, I would do it tomorrow if it was feasible. But you and I both know that with the neuro stem regeneration treatment, it's going to be months before I complete it. And as you would say, DAMMIT. Because while I still can't get an erection, when you mentioned what we did on the couch, and I thought about the feeling of your hands all over me... well, let's just say that if I could have responded physically, you wouldn't have been the only one nearly coming in your pants. And frankly, I wouldn't have minded if you _had_. I would share more of my thoughts with you, but I'd rather wait and _show_ you. But even if I'm still not able to when we get together next, I plan on making sure you do more than come in your pants. I may not have all the feeling back, and I wasn't really in the mindset when we were together to really let myself enjoy what we did, but it still felt GOOD. I still feel warm all over. Kissing you was... well, that night on the couch was the best kiss I've ever had, even if it didn't make me hard.

Now on to less depressing matters. I am all set to teach an advanced tactics class for the spring semester. I've started writing up a few ideas, and working on a course outline. Newsom has been kind enough to help by showing me his outline for his first year class so I have a clue as to what I should be doing. But I'm telling you, Len. I think I'd rather face a Romulan ship than a class of second or third year whippersnapper cadets. And if any of them should be remotely like Jim, I'm packing it in. Seriously. Would you have survived teaching an anatomy or xenoanatomy class with Jim Kirk in your class? I think not. I think the admirality gave out commendations to the professors who had to teach him. Did you know several of them retired the year after they had him in their classes? I'm sure that doesn't surprise you at all.

I've been having a weekly dinner with the Barnetts recently. They took me to my favorite sushi place this week. That is one thing I miss immensely when I'm in space. Replicated sushi is just not the same. Of course I've always been spoiled being from California, even if my first seventeen years were spent in the desert. Having had fresh fish, well, you just can't settle for anything else. I should also tell you it's my favorite thing to cook. And next time you are dirtside and I'm out of this damn hospital care, I plan on taking you to my apartment and cooking for you. Sound good? And if you don't like sushi, well, I might have to re-consider our relationship. I'm serious. Okay, I'm not. I'm smiling writing this, and I hope you are while reading.

In other Starfleet news, there was a huge several-thousand-strong protest by the group Terra Prime outside headquarters. At least it was peaceful. There were a few arrests, but no violence, thank God. We'd heard rumblings that some of their more radical members were planning bombings around the world, but it didn't come to fruition. Their movement has certainly gotten stronger since the Narada incident, and the chatter Starfleet Intelligence has picked up isn't good either. People are spooked, and I suppose they have a right to be considering Earth was minutes from being destroyed. It comes down to the fact that human nature still hasn't changed that much. We say we've evolved, but the truth is, we might as well be back in the 19th and 20th centuries sometimes with the vitriolic hatred this group has for alien life.

Well, it's late and I have early p.t. Explain to me what reporting at 0600 to be put through two hours of torture is supposed to accomplish? Wait, I don't think I want to hear your answer to that. Forget I mentioned it.

Yours,  
Chris

 

From: Leonard H. McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

A relationship, huh? I guess that's as good a word as any, and it's probably a good sign that neither of us appears to be running screaming for the hills now that that word is on the table. Honestly, I thought it would be a hell of a lot longer than this before I'd be ready for anything serious again, but I guess you never know what life's gonna throw at you. And I'm glad for it, really.

My letters are "endearing"? That makes me feel like a kid, and I'm really, really hoping you don't see me as a kid. That they are the highlight of your day? Well, that's more like it. And yours are the highlight of mine. It's ridiculous, the way my stomach does a flip-flop when I get back to my quarters and see that there's a comm from you. Christine - Nurse Chapel, she's my head nurse - has figured out there's something going on by the way I get all fidgety at the end of a shift. I think she thinks I'm conducting a secret liaison with someone onboard. I swear, this place is worse than high school for gossip. So it's probably for the best that we didn't get to talk too much when you vidcommed, because somehow _someone_ would have found out and word would be around the ship faster than you can blink. Not that I'm ashamed of what we have. I'm just not comfortable being the subject of general conversation. I had my fill of that in Georgia.

I must admit I'm relieved that you don't want me to take myself off your med team. As I said, my general feeling is that if you want something done right, you've got to do it yourself, and I'm gonna ride herd on your treating providers to make sure they're doing it like I would. And when I said the thing about me getting a big ego, I didn't mean about my medical skills. All modesty aside, yeah, I'm a good doctor. I was talking about the ridiculous things you said about me being beautiful. I'm just going to ignore it because clearly you're delusional and it's usually best not to challenge the delusions of crazy people.

As for you and me, and the thing with Jim... well, I don't know what else we can say that hasn't been said already. Right now, I'm just trying not to think about it too much. What we have now is good, and I can be here with Jim and keep an eye on him (and yeah, all right, he can keep an eye on me), and so it's better not to borrow trouble, I guess. Jim being a black hole is a pretty good analogy, actually. I like that. I'm going to have to use that on him sometime. In terms of what my intentions were when I joined Starfleet... I honestly don't think I had any idea. I was running away _from_ something, not running toward something, and all that was on my mind was leaving behind everything in my old life. The fact that I've somehow built a new life, one that's in many ways better than the one I left behind... well, I never saw that coming. Not complaining, though. Well, not much - I wouldn't be me if I didn't complain some, right?

Chris, don't you dare come see me now, and screw up all the hard work I put into putting you back together, and all the hard work the rest of your team has been doing to get you walking again! Damn it, man, I didn't mean to suggest that you should come out tomorrow, as much as I'd love to see you. Your health comes first, and that's a medical order from your doctor. And hell, Chris, I didn't realize you were a cruel man, teasing me by talking about what we did, and what we'll do next time, knowing that it's going to get me all hot and bothered. Two can play at that game, though, so watch out. I fight dirty. In fact, I'm going to arrange for you to get a full-body massage. A really long, deep, _thorough_ full-body massage, from someone good I happen to know. I want you getting reacquainted with your body, reconnecting with how good you can feel, even if it's not going to result in sexual release. As for me, I'll just say that me and my trusty right hand have been getting awfully friendly lately. All right, time to move on.

You're going to be a great teacher. You can handle Jim Kirk, so I'm sure you can handle any student you might happen to get. Although let's hope there aren't too many more Jim Kirks waiting in the wings. I'm not sure the universe can take too many of him. And yeah, I knew the thing about teachers retiring after getting Jim. He considered it a badge of honor, kept a tally of how many he'd caused to pack it in. Idiot.

Sushi's your favorite? I'll have to remember that. I like some sushi, although not the more exotic types. Maguro, unagi, hamachi, and good old-fashioned California rolls are my favorites. Sake's good too - I mean salmon, not the drink, although I wouldn't turn down the drink either. I'm not too excited about anything with tentacles. And yeah, fresh fish is one of my favorite meals too. So I'll look forward to having you cook for me, next time we're both planetside. Maybe I'll make my mama's famous peach cobbler, if you're really lucky.

I did hear about the protest - it's been on the news feeds here. I don't know if you knew this, but my parents were both members of Terra Prime. And their parents were, before them. And, well, on back as far as anyone has kept track of these things. I haven't joined - I'm not one for politics really, but Chris, I can kind of see their point of view. I don't mean that the bombings are okay, or any type of violence. But since Nero, the Federation has been weakened. Humanity has been weakened. I don't know that we can afford to be spreading ourselves too thin and giving aid to every race that needs help. One of the things you learn first as a doctor is how to triage, how to focus your energy on the ones that most need your help, the ones that can be saved, because you _can't_ save everybody. Anyway, I can see both sides, is all I'm saying.

I'm glad you know what I would say about the importance of your p.t., because it saves me a lecture. Just remember, though, the more diligent you are about p.t., the faster you'll regain function, and the sooner we'll be able to have that get-together. Think about _that_ when the alarm goes off at 0500.

As you probably know, we're going to be going on a deep space run for the next month and we'll be out of comm range. I'm going to miss your letters, and I'm going to miss being able to tell you what's going on with me, as well. Jim's as excited as a kid in a candy shop, which is never a good thing. That idiot's going to try to get himself killed in a dozen new and creative ways, I can just tell. Anyway, I'll watch out for him, and try to bring him back in one piece, and you take care of yourself too, all right?

I'll comm you as soon as we're back in range.

Yours,  
Len

 

From: Leonard H. McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

I'm exhausted and I need to get to bed, but I just wanted to send you a quick note to let you know we're back in comm range. And we're all okay. Somewhat worse for wear, but we'll survive.  
I've seen some of the official reports that Jim has put together for the mission, and they just... they don't capture what it's like out here. It sounds so dry and boring when it's put down in words, but it's not - it's terror and exhileration and ... well, you know this better than I do. Anyway, I'm just kind of feeling a little overwhelmed by it all.

I've missed you. I hope you've missed me too, and haven't changed your mind about us while I've been out of touch. God, I sound paranoid. I'm gonna shut up now and get some sleep. I'll write more later.

Yours,  
Len

 

From: Leonard H. McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

It's been a few days and I haven't heard from you. Is everything all right? I don't see anything in your medical file to indicate that something's happened.

Write to me, okay? I'm getting even more paranoid, here.

Len

 

From: Leonard H. McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Chris,

It's been a week and still no word. What's going on?

Len

 

From: Leonard H. McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Chris,

If you wanted to stop whatever we're doing, if you've lost interest, you could at least tell me so.

Damn it, I feel like a teenager who's been stood up for prom and I don't like it. Either write back to me, or I'm just going to assume we're done.

Len

 

 

Until next time, thanks for reading!


	3. Scrambling to the Shore (Part 3 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) (the loud one): After that EVIL CLIFFHANGER in the last part (all [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/)'s fault, I swear, she's MEAN ~~and I love her for it~~ ) we couldn't keep you guys waiting too long, so here's the next part. Which does NOT end on an evil cliffy (*stuffs [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) into the closet to prevent her from adding evil cliffy ending*). From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/)**mga1999** (the quiet one): I'm responsible for the evil cliffy in the last part, so forgive Sky. Thanks as always for your wonderful feedback.

_**Trek Fic: Scrambling to the Shore (Pike/McCoy, PG-13)**_  
 **Title:** Scrambling to the Shore (Part 3 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** PG-13 for mention of boy parts  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** around 4500  
 **Summary:** The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike.  
 **Disclaimer:** Any resemblance to anything whatsoever is purely coincidental.  
 **Authors' Notes:** From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) (the loud one): After that EVIL CLIFFHANGER in the last part (all [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) 's fault, I swear, she's MEAN ~~and I love her for it~~ ) we couldn't keep you guys waiting too long, so here's the next part. Which does NOT end on an evil cliffy (*stuffs [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) into the closet to prevent her from adding evil cliffy ending*). From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) (the quiet one): I'm responsible for the evil cliffy in the last part, so forgive Sky. Thanks as always for your wonderful feedback.

  


To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: James T. Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)

Hey Pike -

What's going on? Bones is even more cranky than usual, and he won't talk about whatever's bothering him. There's nothing new going on here, so I can only assume it has something to do with you. If so, FIX IT. I'm serious - I want my CMO back to his normal levels of grumpiness.

-Kirk

To: Leonard H. McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

Of course I don't want to end this. I didn't realize you were back in comm range yet and haven't been checking my messages as often. Have had a lot on my mind, not sleeping much, and truthfully, am not quite feeling like myself because of it. I'm sorry I worried you. Give me a little time.

Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard H. McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Chris -

Do you think I'm a goddamned moron? I knew exactly when you got my emails - the message system tells me when you've read them. So don't give me that bullshit about not checking your messages and not knowing we were back in comm range. Hell, you probably knew when we were going to be getting back into comm range before we did.

So take all the time you want. Take all the time in the world, in fact, because we're through. I won't put up with being lied to again. Been there, done that, got the alimony payments to prove it.

McCoy

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: James T. Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)

Pike -

When I said I'd make you regret it if you ever hurt Bones, I didn't think you were going to take me up on it so fast. I don't know what you did, but I'm going to kick your ass next time I see you. And that's only the beginning of the world of hurt that I'm going to visit on you. That's a promise.

-Kirk

To: Leonard H. McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len

You probably know by now that I've missed a few p.t. sessions, and skipped my last appointment with Dr. Rossen too. Or maybe you don't, because you aren't reading my medical updates anymore, and frankly, I wouldn't blame you. The truth is, I'm not even sure what the truth is right now. I don't know why I lied to you. I didn't even realize what I was doing. I guess... I wasn't ready to talk about what's going on. I'm not even sure what's going on. All I know is I'm not sleeping, and when I do, I have nightmares. Of that ship. Of failing... Failing to uphold what I swore to protect as a Starfleet officer. I gave Nero the means to destroy our planet - no, the entire Federation of Planets. Just handed the border protection codes over like they were nothing. _Nothing._ I went through all the classes at Starfleet on captive interrogation. Hell, I even wrote a paper on it that was published and introduced new evasive techniques. I swear I used _every_ single tool Starfleet gave me and then some. But it did nothing. Nothing helped then, nothing helps now. When I close my eyes, I still feel like I'm right there on that ship. Helpless. I'm trying everything I know, but it's just not helping. I don't know what to do. I can't live like this.

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard H. McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

SHIT. Hang on, hang on, hang on. Don't do anything stupid. In fact, don't do anything right now at ALL. Just hang tight. I'm gonna emergency comm a couple people to go over to your place. Let them in or they WILL bust the door down.

SHIT SHIT SHIT. I should BE there.

To: Leonard H. McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Len,

I'm a little embarrassed now. Oh hell, A LOT embarrassed. You know by now from talking to Dr. Rossen that I wasn't going to do anything. I didn't mean that. I _wouldn't_ do anything like that. I was just tired and frustrated and thought I'd screwed things up with you. I hadn't slept more than a couple hours in four days... I'm probably telling you stuff you already know from Dr. Rossen and Philip. I wrote that -- I intended to write more, to apologize and I was just so tired I put my head down on the desk and actually nodded off for a few minutes. I must have hit send. I woke up when Philip came barging in followed by Dr. Rossen shortly after. Philip is staying here for awhile. I told him there is no need, but he insists since he has to be here at fleet medical for work anyway.

Dr. Rossen and I talked a long while after I slept. Or should I say after they sedated me and I slept. She says I have PTSD. I told her I wasn't tortured. There shouldn't be any reason for me to have PTSD. I've been through a heck of a lot worse incidents in the past.

I'm really not ready to talk about it yet. I _want_ to talk to you, I just -- I can't. I need to figure out what's going on in my own head first before I talk to anyone. Even Dr. Rossen. You _will_ be the first person I come to, I promise. That's all I meant when I asked for time. This has nothing whatsoever to do with us.

I'm sorry for what I put you through with all this mess. I know that's not enough. I hope you know that it means a lot to me that you... well that you cared enough to call Philip and Dr. Rossen. Well, just thanks.

Again, I'm sorry, Len. Truly.

Chris

  
To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard H. McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Chris -

God damn it, man, you scared the HELL out of me. Promise me that you'll contact someone - it doesn't have to be me, but SOMEONE - before you get to that state again. It's just a good thing that you're staying in the officers' long-term rehab apartments on the med campus, or Boyce and Dr. Rossen wouldn't have been able to get there so quickly. And that we were close enough to a communications array that your message got to me quickly.

Damn right Boyce is staying with you. I told him that if he let you out of his sight, he'd be answering to me.

Chris, you know as well as I do that PTSD doesn't work that way. We're humans, and our emotions don't follow goddamned Vulcan logic. Traumatic events can have a cumulative effect, and the Narada incident could have been the straw that broke the camel's back. Or it could have just affected you more deeply than your other experiences, for whatever reason. You _know_ this - or you would, if you were thinking clearly.

So yeah, take some time to recover, do what you need to do. Whatever's between us - it can wait.

By the way, you should comm Jim. He keeps asking me what's going on with you, and I won't tell him - I won't violate your confidence that way, as your doctor or your friend. But he's really worried, and I know he'd feel better if he heard from you. And Chris, I think it would help you too, to reach out to people who care about you. And Jim does, no matter what he might have said (he told me he sent you a nasty email, and he feels awful about it now).

Just - just take care of yourself, all right?

Len

To: Leonard H. McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Len,

Since I know you've been in contact with Philip, I'm sure you know I've been out at my family homestead in Mojave the last few weeks. After talking it over with Dr. Rossen and with Philip's support, I decided that I just needed to get away from everything for awhile. Luckily I have the time before I have to start teaching my class, but I've been continuing to prepare out here. The desert has always been my place to regroup after a tour of duty, a long shore leave, or anytime I've been injured. It's not only home; there is just something about the desert that, to put it simply, heals me. So maybe it was desperate fleeing out here, but after almost a month, I'm feeling more like myself. It's not warm this time of year, but Annie, my cousin who lives here and takes care of the ranch for me, has the trails around the property so well maintained, it's been easy to take much needed long walks in my autochair. My only regret being out here right now is that I can't ride the horses. I'm looking forward to being able to do that again.

I just got back from beaming to medical for another treatment. As you know, I'm right on track. I've been doing my p.t. here. I talk to Dr. Rossen on videocomm twice a week, more if I need it. And no, I still haven't told her anything more than what I told you before. I'm getting there, Len. And you're probably right that it's cumulative. I'm sure it was a number of things. This time hit home a lot more. It was Earth at stake. And with losing Vulcan, and so many of my peers, my _friends_... And knowing he was going to do the same to the rest of the Federation and it would be my fault. And I swear my brain was blocking me from telling him, but the words just came right out of my mouth. I've never told anyone this before, but when the shuttle was approaching the Narada after Jim and the others space jumped, I considered ramming the ship. I was trying to buy as much time as I could get them to disable the drill. But figured the tiny shuttle wasn't powerful enough to do any real damage, and might hinder their operation. After I spit those codes out, though, I wished I had rammed the shuttle into the ship.

I don't know how long I laid on that table; alone, cold and wet, feeling like an electrical current was running through my body from the fluid that bug secreted. And knowing that bug had chewed through me, and was attached to my spinal cord? I wanted to die, Len. I _thought_ I was dead, but would have to see them destroy earth first. They raised the table I was on, so they could make me watch on a view screen. You have no idea what a sight for sore eyes Kirk was rushing in there. I don't remember much after that. I remember getting back to the Enterprise, I remember looking in your eyes laying on a table in medical bay and you telling me I was going to be okay. And then practically nothing, until we had almost limped back to Earth, weeks later. I know you kept me out a lot of that time. I know you did several surgeries on my stomach, intestines, and spine. I remember talking to Kirk. I remember talking to Spock. I remember you hovering. But I don't remember what I talked about with anyone. An effect of the bug, you told me, but I feel like I've been lost ever since in some ways.

And when we started writing each other, it gave me something to focus on again, other than the numbness I not only felt in my lower body, but all over. And I probably shouldn't even say this, because in no way is this your fault, but I want to tell you the truth, Len. When you were out of comm range, and there were no letters, or even reports coming across my desk that I could glean info from, I just started sliding deeper into the numbness. And I kept telling myself, just hang on until you're back. Every day. And then you were back, and I still felt - actually, I felt worse than I had before. I'd started having trouble sleeping a couple weeks before, all started by something stupid and harmless. Static electricity. I reached out to grab something one day and got shocked, and damn if that didn't send me into a panic where I was hyperventilating. To the point that I fell out of my chair. And there I was, a fifty-three-year-old man lying on the floor, having a panic attack, struggling to get to the couch so I could get up in my chair. And I couldn't. I had to comm the desk to send an orderly to help me. And that night, the nightmares started.

I'm reading back over this surprised at what I've written. I'm not sure I feel better doing so. Truthfully, I still feel numb. But I promise you, I'm getting there. And I'm going to tell you something I haven't told anyone yet. The last couple of mornings, when I just start to wake, I've had an erection. I can't control it, it's gone quickly, but it's there. God, I feel like an idiot for something like that being such a big deal. I just wanted to tell you, not just because of our relationship, but because you told me it would happen, made me believe that this might all turn out okay. And if I may admit to being weak and struggling to hold on to whatever I can right now, even though I haven't written, knowing you are out there, knowing you care, is helping me through this.

I'm exhausted from my trip to medical, so I'm going to sign off now. I don't know how much longer I'll be out here, but I'll let you know. Oh and I did comm Jim, as I'm sure he told you. If you need to talk to him, I'm okay with that. I trust you to tell him enough without revealing everything. If the situation was reversed, I'd want to know.

I miss you. I hope you are well.

Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: James T. Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)

Admiral,

I was relieved to hear from you, sir. When Bones made me use my captain's priority code to get those messages through last month - fuck, Chris - I'd never seen him so frantic and upset. He wouldn't tell me what was going on, but I knew it wasn't good. Whatever happened, please don't do it again. It was so bad that when I tripped and sliced my hand open pretty badly chasing after him, he didn't even yell at me. In fact, quite the opposite. He was NICE to me. NICE. He didn't even use a hypospray! He brought dinner to my quarters afterward. He tried to FEED ME since my hand was still healing in a regen glove. It was the most disturbing moment I've ever had with Bones. So please, I beg you, whatever happened, DON'T DO IT AGAIN.

I do feel bad about my previous comm. Bones was upset. He wouldn't talk to me. And once he told me, I figured I might have overreacted. Just a tad. I get like that where Bones is concerned, as you know. I pity anyone who ever hurts him, because they _will_ feel my wrath. That includes you, as I've told you before. I really will kick your ass, but please don't make me. I really wouldn't enjoy it, despite what everyone else says.

But I care about you. And I'm worried. And if there's anything you want to talk about, I'm here. And anything you need, consider it done. You mean a lot to me, and I'm sorry if I haven't told you that before. I wouldn't be where I am without you. I owe you and Bones everything, including being the captain of the Enterprise. I just can't take seeing Bones that upset. So try to fix whatever is going on. I want you both to be happy.

Take care of yourself,

Jim

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard H. McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Chris,

I'm glad you went out to your place in the desert. It sounds like exactly what you need right now. I only wish I could be there with you.

Damn it, Chris, I feel like shit. I wasn't there for you when you needed me, and I actually made the situation worse by jumping to conclusions and pushing you away. If there's any way I can make up for what I did, promise me you'll let me know, all right? I hope to god I haven't wrecked things between us before we even really got a chance to get started.

I get that telling me what's been bothering you, about your experiences on the Narada, didn't make you feel better. Sometimes you've got to feel worse before you start feeling better. And I'm speaking both from my experience as a doctor and as a person. But you will, Chris. You will start feeling better. Keep talking to Dr. Rossen. Talk to your friends, talk to Jim - and if it would help, talk to me. I'm here. You can write me or vidcom me any time. I hope you know that. Hell, if you need me, comm the ship and have me paged.

You might not believe this, but the nightmares are actually a good sign - that you're ready to stop repressing, that your subconscious is easing this information back into your conscious mind in a way that won't overwhelm you all at once. I know that doesn't help much when you're in the grips of one. I'm sorry - I wish I could do something to help more.

Chris, do you remember before, what I said about refusing to accept medical help doesn't make you more of a man, it just makes you a moron? Well that's equally true of your mental health. It doesn't make you weak to get help. It doesn't make you stronger to _refuse_ to get help. In fact, it takes a hell of a lot of courage to admit that you can't do it by yourself, that you need someone else.

In fact - look, if you need me, I'll get there. I'll find a way. I can get dropped at a starbase, take a shuttle to earth. Just let me know, all right? And _don't_ try to be stoic about this. I'm not gonna think less of you.

I'm really glad to hear that you've gotten an erection the last few days. As you know, that's a very good sign. It means that you _will_ eventually regain full functioning. It might take time, but you'll get there. And it _is_ a big deal, and you shouldn't feel bad that it is. But just - you've got so much going on right now, so much you're dealing with. I don't want you to rush into anything you're not ready for, or try to deal with more than you can take on at once.

All right, lecture's over. I'm sorry, Chris. Really, truly, from the bottom of my heart sorry. Let me know what I can do to help - I mean it.

Yours, if you'll still have me,

Len

To: Leonard H. McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

No need to apologize, like you told me before. Not like I told you what was going on or gave you any indication. I am good at hiding how I feel, for the most part. It's almost like tactics, and that's what I'm best at. Which is why this has been so difficult. I haven't been able to figure it out.

You had no reason to think any other way than you did. It's not your fault; if anything, it's mine. I'm the one who screwed up. I'm the one who lied, whether intentionally or not. I'm the one -- I'm the one that jeopardized - Hell, _you're_ worried that you wrecked things between us? I consider myself lucky as hell that you're even still talking to me. There is nothing for you to make up. _I'm_ the one that has a lot to make up for - when I'm ready - and I promise you that I will.

I'm staying here until the week before Christmas. Then I'm going to stay with the Barnetts at their place in the south bay. Philip has been beaming out to the ranch on weekends, and I've had other visitors. Of course my cousin Annie has been taking good care of me, so please stop worrying so much.

As much as I'd love to see you, Len, I don't think now is the time for you to come and see me. I think you know that, but your willingness to drop everything and get here -- well, I have a lump in my throat. I'm grateful. Sometimes the worst part of all this is that I was worried I was going to lose my chance with you. How you could think that I wouldn't still have you? God. This whole mess has only made me want you more.

Barnett tells me they may recall the Enterprise in late January for work on several sections that didn't get completely repaired after Narada since we needed you back out there so quickly. Since they will be sending you to patrol the neutral zone after that, they want her battle ready. I know I won't be done with my treatment, nor back on my feet physically or mentally then. But I'm looking forward to seeing you. You have no idea how much. I'm hoping we can talk then. I have a lot to tell you.

I remain, yours,

Chris

To: James T. Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Jim,

I know by now that Len has talked to you, so there really isn't a lot to say except that I'm sorry. I've apologized to him, and now I'm apologizing to you. I'm sorry, son. I caused both of you undue distress and I'm guessing some unneeded tension between you and him. And that is my deepest regret, because _both_ of you mean a lot to me.

You should know that one of the first things he said to me when we started to pursue this is that I had to promise that whatever happened between him and me, it wouldn't affect my relationship with you. I hope you know what you mean to that man, and I certainly know now what he means to you. If I had been in your situation, I would have been the same way. So we'll just leave it at that and I will do my best, for both of you, to not let it happen again.

I'm doing better. I have a ways to go, physically and mentally, but I'm getting there. Just promise me that you won't let it all bottle up - learn something from my mistakes. Talk to Len, or I hope you know you can _always_ talk to me. Even right now. I may be struggling, but that doesn't mean I'm not here for you too.

You've done an exemplary job your first six months out in the black, son. You've proved all the naysayers in the Admiralty wrong. I'm proud of you.

I told Len in the comm I just sent to him that they are bringing you back in late January. You will probably get the orders later this week. I look forward to seeing you, but I'm warning you, I'm getting stronger every day. You might not be able to kick my ass so easily.

Be Safe,

Pike

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard H. McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

I'm not going to let myself off as easily as you seem willing to do. Which I'm grateful for - don't think I'm not - but goddamnit, I'm the one with the psychology Ph.D., and as your doctor, even if not as your friend, I should have seen this coming and been prepared for it. It's not your fault - I no more blame you for this than I would if you had Arethian flu. It's an illness, Chris, not a weakness, and it's one I should have predicted.

But good god, man, don't do that to me again! Don't hide what you're feeling like that - you're as bad as Jim when I try to evaluate him after an away mission gone wrong. And Chris, I'm saying this as seriously as I know how - please don't lie to me again. I'd rather have the truth, even if it's something I don't want to hear. Hell, I'd rather you tell me to take a hike because you don't want to talk to me anymore. I just - I've been burned before, and honesty is important to me, all right? I need to be able to trust you if this is gonna work.

All right, moving on. If you're sure you don't want me to come, I won't. But the offer is still open - I know Jim'd approve my leave request. So let me know if you change your mind.

It's good that you're not alone, and that you'll have company through the holidays. That can be a rough time, so don't be too surprised if you have a setback. May not happen, but just in case, I know you'd want to know so you can be prepared.

If we're really coming back home in January, you bet your ass I'll be coming to see you. That's good news, Chris. We're all tired and under a lot of stress - this is our first long-term expedition as a crew and it's an adjustment for everyone. We could use the break, me as much as anyone. About the only one who seems not only to be unaffected by the stress, but to be absolutely _thriving_ on it, is Jim. I'm sure that doesn't surprise you.

Anyway, I've got an away mission tomorrow to a potentially hostile planet, so I'd better turn in. Take care of yourself, since I'm not there to kick your ass into doing it.

Yours,

Len

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: James T. Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)

Pike,

Who's 'Len'? I think you're getting senile in your old age.

Kirk

To: James T. Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Kirk,

Like 'Bones' is any better, and watch it with the senility cracks or I'll kick _your_ ass.

Pike

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: James T. Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)

Pike,

Bring it on, old man!

-Kirk

  



	4. The Time Has Come (Part 4 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike. It gets smutty this time, peeps. :O

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) (the loud one): You knew the pr0n was inevitable, right? I mean, this is _me_ we're talking about. I kind of had to drag [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) kicking and screaming, but you guys know I can never stay away from the smut for long. :p From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/)**mga1999** (the quiet one): Thanks again for all the wonderful feedback. We are having a blast writing this, well, 'cept me with the pron.

_**Trek Fic: The Time Has Come (Pike/McCoy, NC-17)**_  
 **Title:** The Time Has Come (Part 4 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17, BABY!  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** around 5500  
 **Summary:** The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike. It gets smutty this time, peeps. :O  
 **Disclaimer:** Any resemblance to anything whatsoever is purely coincidental.  
 **Authors' Notes:** From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) (the loud one): You knew the pr0n was inevitable, right? I mean, this is _me_ we're talking about. I kind of had to drag [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) kicking and screaming, but you guys know I can never stay away from the smut for long. :p From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) (the quiet one): Thanks again for all the wonderful feedback. We are having a blast writing this, well, 'cept me with the pron.

  


To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

I just got back to the ship and already I'm missing you. Good lord, doesn't _that_ sound pathetic. God, Chris, when I first saw you at the shuttleport, and you _stood up_ to greet me, you could have knocked me over with a feather. You're a sneaky bastard, keeping that out of your medical file so you could surprise me! I'm happy for you, though - I hope you know how much. From here on out, you're over the worst, physically, and it should get easier and easier. I should've known you'd beat all expectations about how long it would take you to walk again. Just don't push it too much or you'll undo all my hard work.

We're about to leave spacedock, headed for the neutral zone. I've gotta admit, I'm kind of nervous. Oh, hell, I'm _a lot_ nervous. Not so much for me, but for all these goddamn kids on the crew who are so excited and think it's going to be one big adventure. Idiots. I guess they'll learn soon enough. And, of course, I'm scared for Jim. Sometimes I think he won't be satisfied unless he goes out young in a blaze of glory like his father. I'll do my best to drag him back from the edge, like always, and just hope it's enough.

All right, that's enough of _that_ line of thought. Much better to remember the last ten days. Good god, man, you were fantastic. If I'd known it was going to be _that_ good, I'd have jumped you as soon as we saw each other, never mind this mature adult crap of talking things out first. I'm sorry that you weren't able to come - yet - but I'm hoping you had a good time anyway. Goddamn, Chris, the things you can do with your hands, and oh lord your _mouth_ \- sweet mother of mercy. Where on earth did you learn to do that? Never mind, I don't really want to know. I just want you to do it again. And again. I don't think I've _ever_ come that many times within the space of a few days. And getting the chance to explore your body - well, that was just as incredible. You've got an unbelievable body, Chris, long and lean and spare. Being able to touch and kiss and lick every square inch - it's gonna haunt my memories during my time in the black. Gives me something to look forward to, which I haven't had for longer than I care to think about.

Damn it, now I'm getting all hot and bothered. I have a feeling my right hand's going to get quite a workout this tour. And don't worry, I haven't forgotten that you wanted me to tell you all about what I'm doing, and what I'm thinking about when I do it. I will, and you might regret it - I'm warning you, I can be absolutely _filthy_ when I want to be.

But for now, I'm on duty in half an hour, so I'm gonna take care of this quickly, and I'll write to you about it later.

Take care of yourself, and good lord keep up with your p.t. and nerve regeneration sessions, because if you can take me apart _this_ much while you're still recovering, I can't _wait_ to see what you can do when you're back to full health. I just hope I survive.

Yours,  
Len

  
To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

You are a devious man, Leonard McCoy. I got your comm right away and now all I can think about is that you are sitting in your quarters jerking off and I wish I was the one doing it. I just looked at that mood crystal you gave me, and see it's purple and holy hell, it just turned aqua so I'm assuming you've just come. I'm really glad my class isn't here yet, because I'm probably twenty shades of red and completely hot and bothered. And yes, I put the crystal in my pocket when I left the apartment at medical this morning. I figured if I kept it with me... Okay, you are turning an old man into a complete sap. But really, Len. It's probably the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me. I love being able to look at it and know how you are feeling at any given moment. Although I'm not sure I'll like it much when it's red, but at least I can know it's not _me_ making you so angry. Hopefully.

I wish I could tell you your nerves are unwarranted heading to the neutral zone. The two month tours out there aren't fun during normal times, and now since the Narada Incident, it's become more -- well I hate to say it, a war zone if we don't have our ships strategically placed. Everyone is on edge, and pirates are taking advantage of the chaos and the limited federation protection. We've moved up production and launch on several new ships, and Starfleet hopes to have them all launched by the end of the year. Until then, we're more vulnerable than we'd like to be.

I'm going to tell you now so there is no misunderstanding later. I plan on being on one of those ships. Providing of course, I'm released medically, which everyone seems to believe will happen now. I have my eye on the Exeter which will launch in October. I've already talked it over with Admiral Barnett, and while I could tell Richard wasn't thrilled with me going back out, he really doesn't have a choice. There are a couple other admirals who will probably be doing the same until there are enough officers capable of commanding a ship. Unfortunately, there aren't any Jim Kirks in the current classes, and I doubt anyone like him will come through again. Please don't tell him I said that.

In better news, I'm going to be officially released from the hospital next week since I'm getting more ambulatory every day. I'm going to stay around the academy during the week, and go home on weekends. I know I'm not quite ready to be back in my apartment in the city full time yet, but I'm looking forward to spending the night in my own bed. And if I may be so bold, I'm looking forward to having _you_ in that bed next time you're here. So you better stay in tip-top shape while you are up in that 'tin can' as you like to call it. You're going to need every bit of stamina you've got.

Take care of yourself. I miss you too. Can't wait to see you again.

Fair winds and following seas.

Yours,  
Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)

Pike,

I realize I told you to make my CMO happy, but I may have to draw the line. He's _humming_. He stood behind my chair when we were departing spacedock and he was HUMMING.

If he starts whistling, we may have a problem.

Kirk

To: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Kirk,

Just wait until I'm back 100%. He'll be doing more than whistling, and will probably be walking crooked.

Pike

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)

Pike,

For the record, that's waaaay more than I needed to know. Feel free to keep things like that to yourself. In fact, I insist.

Respectfully,  
Kirk

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

You're twenty shades of red _now_? I haven't even gotten started yet. I'd suggest being alone when you read my comms, unless you _want_ to be hot and bothered in public. Which is kind of a turn-on in and of itself, actually.

All right, first to deal with the serious stuff. That's fantastic news, that you're going to get another command. Lord knows you deserve it - you're one of the finest officers Starfleet has ever produced, and you belong in charge of a starship. You know it, I know it, even the brass knows it, which is nothing short of a miracle considering how far up their asses their heads are usually shoved. But Chris - don't push yourself too hard, or too fast. You _will_ get back out there, you _will_ get another command, but this October? I'm just not sure you'll be ready, physically or emotionally. You and Jim are two peas in a pod, I swear. Always trying to take on too much, pushing yourselves too hard in order to help others. I consider it my job to protect both of you from yourselves. Anyway, let's not borrow trouble - who knows what'll happen in the next eight months. And when you're back to full health, I'll be first in line to celebrate your new command.

On the topic of protecting you and Jim from yourselves, this past week there was an away mission and Jim came back in bad shape. Apparently they had a run-in with some Klingons who wanted to lay claim to a dilithium-rich planet before we did. He was unconscious, and his injuries - it was bad, Chris. I got him patched up, and now he's just raring to go again. I'm not sure how I'm going to cope with five more years of this. It just isn't in me to detach emotionally from my patients, and even if it were, it's _Jim_. I couldn't detach from him if I tried. Yes, I realize we're more than a little co-dependent, but that's how it's always been. As you said, we need each other. Anyway, I know there's no easy solution here. I'll just muddle through the best I can. But it helps to have someone to vent to. And I hear you about the neutral zone - there's a constant edge of tension throughout the entire crew. It's like everyone is aware that hostilities could break out at any second.

God, Chris, it's going to kill me when you're out there in black, and I won't be there by your side to patch _you_ up when you come back from away missions in shreds. And you _will_ \- don't even try to pretend otherwise. You'll have some other doctor in charge of your safety, and dammit, I don't trust anyone else to take care of you as much as I trust myself. I _will_ be having strong words with your CMO on the topic of the proper standard of medical care for a starship captain, and for you in particular.

That crystal is interesting, isn't it? I still don't quite understand how the damn thing works. At first I didn't believe it _would_ work - I was sure the merchant was having me on. She claimed that these crystals come from one particular region of Uxtaxia, and when they're "harvested," the workers have to wear gloves so they won't accidentally touch them. Apparently, the crystal becomes "attuned" to the first person to have contact with it, and once it's imprinted it can't ever be transferred. Then she told me some mumbo-jumbo about emotional resonance and psionic waves and I kind of tuned out, but I figured it was a pretty trinket anyway, even if it didn't work. But it does. I don't know how, but it does. I kept an eye on it after I bought it, and it always seemed to be accurate. Er, one warning - when I get particularly pissed off, it gets kind of hot. When I got that email from you saying you hadn't read my comms - well, there's a little scorch mark on my desk where it was sitting. So if it starts getting warm in your pocket, you might wanna take it out and put it on something heat-proof. I - well, I really like the fact that you're carrying it around with you. I almost feel like you're keeping an eye on me, like part of me is always with you. And if _that_ isn't the sappiest thing you've ever heard, I'll eat my goddamned hat.

That's good news that you're feeling strong enough to spend some time in your apartment in the city. I haven't seen it yet, and I'm looking forward to visiting you there. A while ago, you promised to cook for me when I was earthside, and if that offer's still open, I'd love to take you up on it. Of course, Chris, you're going to have me in your bed when I visit. And probably on every other damn surface in that apartment as well, given what I know about you.

So that brings me to my last topic, and Chris, you might want to make sure you're in private, and alone, before you read this part.

Good lord, it was hot reading in your last letter that you'd been watching the crystal when I was jerking off. Yeah, you figured right - purple seems to be when I'm sexually aroused, and aqua when I'm sexually satisfied. I figure you'll be seeing a lot of the former, and not too much of the latter during this tour.

I promised I'd tell you what I was thinking about when I was doing that. Well, of course, I was thinking about you. I didn't have much time to construct an elaborate scenario, so I was just remembering that last time on the couch before I had to leave for the shuttleport. Do you remember? You jerked me off with your right hand and caught my come in your left. Then you had me lick it all out of your hand. Damn, Chris, the look on your face while I was lapping up my own come from your palm. Well, it was incredible. So that's what I was thinking of. And when I came, I shot into my hand and I licked it all up. Reminded me of our time together, and I figured you might appreciate that touch.

Since then, you might've noticed if you've been watching the crystal, I've jerked off quite a few more times. Generally I do in the sonic shower in the morning, and I replay one of the times from when we were together. In the evenings, after my shift is over, I have more time to really play. Mostly what I've been fixated on lately is your cock. I know you weren't able to come when we were together, but you _did_ get hard just about every time, and damn, Chris, you've got a gorgeous cock. I have all kinds of plans for it, but for right now, I want it inside me. It's been years since I've been penetrated, and even back when I was with other guys I mostly topped, but with you... well, to be crude, I want you to fuck me, Chris. I _really_ want it. I've been using my fingers, getting myself used to the feeling again. Goddamn, it feels good. Even better than I remembered. Next time we're in civilization, I'm going to have to make a stop and pick up some supplies. I want to try practicing with a dildo so I'll be ready for you when we're next together.

So there you go. What I've been doing, and what I've been thinking about. Now it's your turn - I want to know what _you've_ been thinking about doing next time we're together. And since I'm completely turned on now, I'm gonna go change that crystal from purple to aqua again. I'll be imagining you shoving that gorgeous thick cock of yours into my ass.

Write as soon as you can, all right? God I miss you.

Yours,  
Len

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Len,

Jesus Christ, Len. Are you trying to kill an old man? You weren't kidding when you said you had a filthy mouth. I'll admit, that kind of surprised me, but I sure as hell am not complaining. More on that later, or I'll never write the rest of this letter if I keep thinking about that right now.

I'm sorry haven't written back quicker. Between this class, p.t., and my sessions with Dr. Rossen, I've been pretty worn out. Been sleeping a lot more than usual, which Dr. Rossen says is my body's way of coping with the stress of PTSD and the other emotions I'm dealing with. I'm _fine_ , so stop worrying. I'm doing what I need to do to get better.

I have to admit, Len. I didn't know how happy you'd be about me having another command. I don't know why I thought you'd be opposed to or unhappy about it. I guess old habits die hard. Anytime I've been involved and signed up for another tour on a ship, it usually meant the demise of that relationship. I have to admit it felt good, really good, to know you support me on that.

As far as you not being there to patch me up, will it make you feel any better if I tell you that Philip will probably be my CMO? He's been dirtside for seven years now, while his kids finished secondary school, but now that they are all at university, and his youngest at Starfleet, he's been itching to get back on a ship. I can't think of anyone better, well, besides you, to take with me. He still needs to do a little convincing of his husband, but considering Allen spends six months a year at various starbases, I don't think it will be a problem.

I just read the report about the incident with the Klingons on Harkadia last night. I wish I had known sooner, I would have commed you. I'm sorry you had to go through several days of worry on your own, Len. I left the crystal at my apartment when I came back to the Academy on Monday. Boy, it was a long week not being able to look at that when I needed to and see how you were. I will admit though, I haven't been looking forward to finding out what color it turns when something like that happens. I suspect I'd have felt pretty helpless. I'm sorry for not doing a better job at keeping up with what's going on with you, Jim, and the ship. I just haven't been able to read every day. The days I come home from my sessions with Dr. Rossen, I barely have the energy to eat. Half the time I've been falling asleep on the couch. And before you start your lecturing, yes, I DO eat. I make sure of that. And my diet is still programmed to be heavy in protein and calcium, as you know, so I'm almost back to my normal weight.

I commed Jim after reading the report, of course he brushed it off as being no big deal. I don't understand all the medical jargon in the report, but it looked like a pretty big deal to me. He finally admitted that he might have scared the living daylights out of you, and he says that's the worst part. Whether he acts like it or not, he does feel guilty for making you worry. He has complete confidence that you'll patch him up, though. In fact he told me when he was in so much pain and losing all that blood, he just keep telling himself all he had to do was get back to the ship, back to you, and that helped him keep going. You two really are quite a pair, you know that don't you?

I also have to admit, there are times that I'm jealous. Yes, I'm admitting it, and feeling like that is new for me, because I'm really not the jealous type. And yes, I'll admit I probably believed some of those rumors that you two were more than friends. Anyone who spent any time watching the two of you would believe it. In fact the first thing Philip said to me when I told him about us was _Isn't he seeing that Kirk boy?_. Anyway, I wanted you to know, because I don't want to hide anything from you, even if it's not something I really want to think about.

Monday, I go for my next-to-last neuro treatment. While they assure me I'm actually doing better than they expected, I kind of thought when I was done, I'd be almost back to where I was. And while I can walk from my bed to the bathroom now, it feels like I've run a marathon. I know the p.t. is what is really going to get me moving more, but I guess I'm getting a little frustrated. And yes, I'm pushing myself hard, Len. But you can't tell me you wouldn't be doing the same thing if you were in my shoes. I promise though, I won't overdo it. I know my limits, or at least I'm learning to.

I'm going out with Philip, Richard, and their families on Admiral Archer's boat tomorrow. Should be a beautiful day for it. I only wish you were here to go with me.

Well, it's pretty late here now and I'm going to get some sleep. I'm lying in my bed and re-reading your last comm. God Len, if you make me hard this easily despite my problem, I can't imagine what it's going to be like when I'm 100%. And yes, I'm touching myself now, re-reading, while I dictate this letter. Fuck, Len, I cannot wait to be inside you. Whether I can come next time we see each other or not, I will, as you put it, shove my thick cock into your ass. God, just thinking about that is driving me crazy.

And since you want to know what else I think about, let me tell you this. After your letter, I may have gone down to the Haight district to a favorite little shop of mine. I picked out a little something. Something I plan on using. Because next time you are here, and in _my_ bed, I'm going to fuck you, and then use the butt plug I bought to keep you nice and ready for me while I kiss you senseless, until I'm hard again, then fuck you again. And I'm going to do this over and over until neither of us can move. And then, I'm going to lick my come out of your ass, Len. Fuck, I wish I could come right now. I'm so close and it feels so good stroking myself, thinking about doing these things to you.

I look forward to your next letter. You have no idea how much I miss you, but I'm going to show you. I promise.

Yours,  
Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

For god's sake, stop with the "old man" crap. You are in no way an old man - you're in your prime, and I bet when you're at full health you can run circles around me on the Academy's endurance course. Not that I'm willing to test this theory, because if I never have to see that goddamn thing again, it'll be too soon.

I'm happy to hear that you've been taking care of yourself - eating well and getting plenty of sleep. I'm keeping up with your med updates daily and talking to Dr. Rossen when I can, so I'm not too worried - right now. Stop taking care of yourself, though, and that'll change damn quick. I know it's frustrating that it's not going faster. But pushing harder will _not_ make your recovery faster - it will just set you back. I know you don't want to hear that, but it's true, and you'll have to trust me on this - I actually _am_ a doctor.

Good god, man, of course I support your getting another command! Just like I'm a doctor, you're a starship captain. It's obviously what you were born to do. If I tried to compete with that, I'd lose, and I wouldn't make you choose anyway.

I'll admit it would make me feel a lot better if Boyce was with you as your CMO. If there's anyone I'd trust to watch out for you as carefully as I would, it's him. So you damn well better convince him to go out there with you. I'll still be checking in frequently, though, to keep an eye on how you're doing.

The Klingons on Harkadia - that feels like a million years ago now. Just last week there was another away mission, and Jim - well, he lost two crewmembers. He's completely torn up over it and I don't know how to help. I've been a doctor for years, so I know what it's like to lose a patient. It's never easy, and it _shouldn't_ be easy, but he's taking it way too hard. He's blaming himself, and it isn't his fault. Even _Spock_ has tried to comfort him. Spock! Well, he said something about how it was illogical for Jim to blame himself, which I guess is the closest to sympathy you're going to get from that pointy-eared bastard. But nothing anyone says makes any difference, and it's goddamn frustrating. I don't like to see him like this.

On the subject of Jim... Chris, I don't know what to say that'll reassure you. I can tell you there's _nothing_ romantic or sexual between me and Jim, and there never has been. That's the god's honest truth. But I know that jealousy isn't rational. To be honest, I'm kind of a possessive bastard myself, so I get it. I swear, though, it's _you_ , Chris. If I have to keep writing sappy, filthy letters to prove it, then that's what I'll do. If there's something else I can do, let me know, all right?

Trust me, you do _not_ want me with you when you go sailing. I'm liable to throw up all over you, Boyce, Barnett, and Admiral Archer as well. Which would probably not do any good for either of our careers, so all things considered it's probably better I'm not going. I hate boats only slightly less than I hate shuttles. Floating death traps, instead of flying ones. And if _that_ hasn't put you off for life, then nothing can.

Damn, Chris, reading that you were touching yourself while reading my last comm, and then your description of what you're going to do to me next time we're together... well, I've been using _that_ to get off the last several days and it's just making me more and more eager for it to happen. I picked up a few toys myself when we stopped to resupply and I've been using them on myself, imagining that it's you. If I come that fast when we're together, though, I'm going to embarrass myself. Might have to invest in a cock ring to make sure I don't go off like an over-excited teenager.

You're gonna lick your own come out of my ass, huh? Fuck, that's hot, but I hope you realize I'm going to give you a general anti-bacterial hypo beforehand, because I'm not having you get sick during our few days together. And I think, actually, that it might be pretty soon - we're scheduled for shore leave on Milika III in a few weeks, which I'm pretty sure coincides with spring break at the Academy. If you can get out there to meet me, let me know. The beaches are supposed to be beautiful, and I'm thinking I'll book a hotel room with a nice view because if you're with me, neither of us is actually going to make it outside.

And on that note, I guess I'll sign off for now. I'm really hoping you can make it out to Milika. Damn, just the thought of all the things you're going to do to me is driving me crazy, and if I know you (and I think I'm starting to) you've got a couple things up your sleeve that you're _not_ telling me about so you can surprise me when we're together. Can't wait to find out what.

Yours,  
Len

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

Milika, huh? Interesting how I commed Richard after I got your letter and when I mentioned something about the Enterprise's shore leave lining up with our spring break, he just smiled that condescending smile of his. He also told me I should get a sub the last two days so I can arrive about the same time as the Enterprise. Even more amazing, there just happens to be a series of shuttles that will get me there about three hours after you do. I'm assuming now that he approves of our relationship. Not that it matters, but I'm not going to complain about having him in our corner.

Seasick, huh? I do have to admit I'm a little disappointed. I love being out on the water. I once sailed from Starfleet Headquarters out to the Hawaiian Islands. Used up every bit of shore leave I had coming for five years to do it, but it was worth it. There is nothing like being out on the open sea, but I guess that's the explorer in me. I planned on sailing from the east coast to England when I retire someday. Would be nice to have you along. There is nothing like making love out on the open water. Sure you can't dose yourself with something?

Now to more serious subjects. I've tried to vid comm Jim a couple of times since I got your last letter, but he hasn't responded. I left him a long message though, told him what I went through the first time I lost crewmembers, and how I learned to cope. I told him about the time I lost four shuttles heading to shore leave. I lost my first officer, and 109 other souls. It was rough; I sobbed like a baby in the refuge of my quarters. I told him all this, Len. I don't know if it will help, but let me know how he's doing.

I'll admit that I was relieved when you told me there hadn't been anything between you and Jim in the past. I should have just asked, but part of me wasn't sure I wanted to know. And in that same vein, I should tell you that early in my Starfleet days, Philip Boyce and I were involved. We were young, he joined a year after me, and we just clicked. Another reason why I wondered about you and Jim. Philip and I did make it sexual, though, for several years. It ended when I went out on a ship, and he was still in medical school. It was never really any great romance. More like a convenience, and we realized that later and became the great friends we are today. He met Allen two years after I shipped out. I came back two years later to be best man at his wedding. I'm the godfather of all four of their kids.

So there's that. If there is anything else you want to know just ask, and I'll try to do the same next time I'm feeling, well, insecure. As far as my ex-wife, we were together five years, married for four, and I was on a ship for three years of my marriage. She was a civilian, which was probably my first mistake. They never understand, but I really wanted to start a family, to have something to come home to other than a one night stand at a bar. She couldn't handle me being away for such long periods. Started seeing someone else. She's now married to him with two kids. I probably should have cared more at the time, but I think I married her for all the wrong reasons.

I'm not telling you all of this, expecting you to do the same. There just comes a point in a relationship where you pull the skeletons out of the closet, and I see those two as my biggest ones. Well, there may be a few more, but if there is anything you want to know, just ask. The last thing I want to do is screw this up over something from my past, so please, if you're curious, or feeling insecure like I was, let me know.

So yes, I'm still taking care of myself. Even more so now when I know I'll be seeing you in a few weeks. And I may be pushing myself harder than you'd like, but I promise I'm not _overdoing_ either. It's going to be tough though, because as much as you think we won't be leaving our hotel room, I'll be damned if I'm going to be on Milika and not be able to walk on the beach with you. The sunsets there are incredible. Besides, I know some out-of-the-way _private_ places where we can have some fun. I plan on showing you every one of them.

I'd also appreciate it if you can schedule a night where the bridge crew and some of my other former crew could get together for drinks somewhere. The comms and gifts and support I've gotten from everyone has been incredible and as much as I'd rather spend all my time with you, I feel l owe them all a drink or two. It would mean a lot to me, and other than a dinner I promised Jim, (which you are invited to also, at Jim's insistence) I'm all yours for nine days. I hope you know I'm hard just thinking about it.

And yes, I have a few more tricks, and _toys_ up my sleeve. But honestly, the thought of just being with you, holding you... God Len, you make me happy just thinking about the simplest of things. The thought of waking up with you for nine days, sliding down, and wrapping my mouth around your long thick cock... I cannot wait to taste you again.

I'll let you know how my last regen session goes tomorrow. Although you'll probably get the report long before I write you. I have to thank you again for all the work you did designing this treatment. I wouldn't be here without you. Literally.

I'll talk to you soon. Can't wait to see you.

Yours,  
Chris

  



	5. The Sun Was Shining Brightly (Part 5 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike. Equal parts smut and schmoop this time. :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) (the loud one): [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and I would like to make something clear for the record: any punctuation, grammar, or usage errors found in any part of this series belong to Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike, not to us. We swear, each one was lovingly hand-inserted for verisimilitude. They're Starfleet officers, dammit, not grammarians! *shifty look*  okay, Jude, I think our asses are covered. From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/)**mga1999** (the quiet one): Yes, what she said. And she really is making me write the pr0n and corrupting me. *g*

_**Trek Fic: The Sun Was Shining Brightly (Pike/McCoy, NC-17)**_  
Yes, MOAR! Are you sick of us yet? :D

**Title:** The Sun Was Shining Brightly (Part 5 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17, yet again!  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** around 6200  
 **Summary:** The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike. Equal parts smut and schmoop this time. :D  
 **Disclaimer:** Any resemblance to anything whatsoever is purely coincidental.  
 **Authors' Notes:** From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) (the loud one): [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and I would like to make something clear for the record: any punctuation, grammar, or usage errors found in any part of this series belong to Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike, not to us. We swear, each one was lovingly hand-inserted for verisimilitude. They're Starfleet officers, dammit, not grammarians! *shifty look*  okay, Jude, I think our asses are covered. From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) (the quiet one): Yes, what she said. And she really is making me write the pr0n and corrupting me. *g*

  


To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

I don't even know where to start. I guess by saying that I had an incredible time with you on Milika III. Better than I could have imagined, and believe me when I say I imagined it being pretty damn good.  
Nine days and nights with you - god, Chris, the sex was amazing, but it was so much more than that. At least, it felt that way to me. And you said I should talk to you if I was feeling insecure, so here goes nothing, I guess.

Damn, I feel like a moron even raising this. I'm probably reading too much into things. But I'm just wondering... where do you see this going? I had thought that maybe this was more of a casual thing for you. I know you'd made some offhand references to the future, but I wasn't sure how serious you were, and we've been pretty - well, I guess "discreet" is the right word - back on earth. I knew you weren't making a secret of our relationship, but I wasn't sure that you were really prepared to be public about it either.

But on Milika... Chris, the way you held my hand when we walked on the beach, in front of everyone... And then the night we went to a bar with the bridge crew and the others on the Enterprise who had served with you - I'm sure you remember that there was a woman who approached me and wanted to buy me a drink. And you put your hand on the back of my neck and said "He's spoken for," in that steely command tone of yours. The whole table went quiet - hell, I think the whole _bar_ went quiet. The only one who didn't look completely shocked was Jim. I swear even Spock widened his eyes a little. You're a scary bastard when you want to be, you know that? I thought that poor woman was going to faint. I hadn't heard your command voice since back when you told me we'd "have words" later for my sneaking Jim onto the Enterprise. I was goddamn glad not to have that voice directed at _me_ again, but I admit it was kind of nice to have you get all possessive over me like that. I don't think you took your hand off of me for the rest of the night, and the death glares you were shooting at anyone who even vaguely looked in my direction... it was flattering, Chris. That's probably ridiculous of me, but it's been a long time since I've felt wanted like that.

And even when it was just us, alone together. Waking up in your arms every morning, just lying there quietly with you. Or when you were kissing me, and when you were inside me. It felt - I guess what I'm trying to say is that it didn't feel casual to me, at all. So I just want to find out if I'm the only one feeling this way. If you _are_ only after something casual, that's fine, but I'd rather know now, so I don't go getting myself in too deep.

Wherever you want this to go in the future, though, I'm just grateful for what we have right now. Good god, you're an incredible lover, generous and demanding at the same time. You weren't kidding about fucking me until neither of us could move. I'm glad I thought to bring my portable regen unit or I'd probably _still_ be lying in that bed. Which, come to think of it, wouldn't be a bad thing.

That first night, when you came for the first time since your injuries... fuck, Chris, the look on your face. You looked so goddamned _happy_ , and I felt so honored that I could be there for that, be a part of that with you. And I'm glad you convinced me to go out sailing with you. You're right, it's incredible. The massive dose of anti-nausea meds I hyposprayed myself with helped, I'm sure, but mostly, it was being out there with you. You so obviously knew what you were doing that I didn't feel nervous - well, okay, not much. And then when it was just you and me and the waves, and we made love out in the open air under the sun - damn it, man, you're turning me into a sappy romantic. Or, I should say, you're turning me _back_ into a sappy romantic. I thought I had had all that burned out of me by the disaster of my marriage and the divorce, but I guess it was still there, buried deep. I still think I should have let you suffer with that sunburn on your ass after you refused to put on sunscreen, though.

Oh, and sex on the beach is not really all that it's cracked up to be either. The sand got _everywhere_ , and I really could have lived without the sand crab family that decided to crawl over me just as we were getting to the good part. But laughing about it with you afterwards made it worth it. Listen to me, going on like this. I think I'd better shut up about all this before I say something I'll really regret.

I take it that the p.t. is going well? I haven't seen anything popping up in your med reports, so I'm assuming all is on track.

I know when we were on Milika you spent some time alone with Jim, talking to him about how hard it is to lose crewmembers. He didn't say anything specific to me about it, but I can tell the difference - he's calmer, more at peace with it now, and less overwhelmed with guilt than before. So whatever you said, thank you. I'm sure it'll happen again, and he'll struggle with it each time, but in some ways I think the first time is always the hardest - at least it was that way for me, when I lost my first patient. I think probably just getting away from his command responsibilities for a short time helped too - lord knows he made the most of our time off the Enterprise.

The only bad part of shore leave, and seeing you, is when it ends, knowing that it's going to be months, probably, before I see you again. It's worth it, though - at least it is for me.

I've got some personal vidcomm time coming to me, so maybe we can arrange to talk in the next few weeks. Let me know if that would work for you. I'd really like to see your face again.

Yours,  
Len

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

I thought I might save this conversation for that personal vidcomm time you have coming, but I'd probably screw it up somehow, so I'm going to resort to what brought us here in the first place, our letters. It's been almost a year since we started writing, can you believe that? And while I'm sure our relationship would have gone differently if we'd both been dirtside, I think the letters allowed both of us the chance to -- well get to know each other in a way that didn't send either of us running like a face-to-face relationship might have. At least that's how I feel about it. And I'll admit, it kind of snuck up on me.

What I'm saying, badly, is that you aren't the only one feeling this way. And I'm telling you right now, I'm _already_ in too deep. Those nine days with you were the most incredible days of my life, Len. And I'm not just saying that. I feel the same way -- being there with you, kissing you -- nothing ever felt so right. Making love with you, God, Len, you have no idea. And coming inside you, that first time for me in over a year, I was so happy I could have wept. I nearly did.

So no, you aren't reading into things, Len. I want everything I can possibly get from you. So if you're a moron for raising this in the first place, then I'm a lovestruck fool. Because I find myself sitting at my desk remembering our trip, and daydreaming about our future together -- House, kids, and that boat to sail across the Atlantic in. So if this doesn't scare you away, which I hope it doesn't, I hope this puts to rest any insecurities or worries you had about me just thinking this was something 'casual'. It's not.

As you saw in the bar, I protect anything that's mine. And I was damn proud to be there with you, Len. You really do have no idea how gorgeous you are. You are. And I have no intention of ever letting anyone near you. If that makes me a possessive bastard, so be it.

Now, if you're still reading and not running for the hills, I have good news. I'll be coming out to the Enterprise a couple weeks after the semester ends. As you know, every starship has a formal evaluation after a year in the black, and it just so happens I'm going to be the admiral assigned to do it. And yes, I sent Richard a very nice bottle of brandy, besides the gifts I picked up for him and his family on Milika III.

God, Len, the idea that I'm going to be able to fuck you on the Enterprise? My ship -- Well, yes, I know she's Jim's ship now, but I will always feel a kinship with her, and I'm hard now just thinking of the _weeks_ I'll get to spend with you onboard. And while I know that Jim will 'officially' have to assign me the visiting dignitary quarters, I hope you know I don't plan on leaving yours. Period.

I'm glad Jim is doing better. He didn't seem any different after I talked to him on Milika, so I'm glad to know I could help in some way. I sure had a good time at dinner with the two of you. And I'll admit, seeing how happy he is for us, well, I think it's quelled that little voice inside me for now. I'm not saying I'm still not going to have my moments, but right now, I'm incredibly happy.

I'm completely falling for you, Len. Hard. And I'm not the least bit ashamed to say that. Let me know when we can schedule that vidcomm. I can't wait to see your face again either.

Love,  
Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

You have no idea how relieved I was to get your last comm. I think in the few days since it arrived, I haven't stopped smiling once. I actually think I'm scaring Jim, which is a bonus. I swear he thinks I was born a grouchy old man. I guess he's never known me to be anything different, so I can't really blame him, but Chris - that isn't me. Or it isn't all of me. I've always been one to feel things strongly, and I've never been good at hiding what I'm feeling. My mama used to say that I wore my heart on my sleeve, and I guess that's a good way of putting it. But it wasn't until recently that all those feelings were unhappy ones. What I'm trying to say here is that you've given that back to me, the good feelings to balance out the bad, and just - thank you for that.

So yes, this snuck up on me too, but I'm damn glad it did. "Lovestruck" is a pretty good word for it, and I'm right there with you, Chris. House, kids, and boat, huh? Well, the house and boat I've got no problem with. Kids - I'm not sure. I'm not saying no, but I just don't know. Definitely I wouldn't want to have kids while we're still both on active duty. Even if you retire before I do (which I know is not a given, trust me) I wouldn't want our kids to have one absentee parent. And beyond that - Chris, this isn't something that I've ever talked about. Not even Jim knows this. But towards the end of our marriage, just before things went really bad, Jocelyn got pregnant. It was a little girl. We already had a name picked out and a nursery ready. Then about halfway through the pregnancy, Joss miscarried. It about killed both of us, Chris, and looking back I think it was one of the things that destroyed our marriage. We both retreated into our own grief instead of reaching out to each other. Anyway, my point is that I just don't know if I can go through that again. I mean, I know it wouldn't necessarily end in tragedy, but there are no guarantees in life. I think if I had a child, I'd always be living in fear, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But as I said, I'm not ruling it out. I'm just not ready to decide yet. Anyway, I didn't mean to get so serious, but I thought you should know. One of those "skeletons" you were talking about. If that's a deal-breaker, let me know now, all right?

Moving on to less depressing topics. I told you, Chris, I don't mind your possessiveness. I find it strangely flattering. Now, if you start punching people just for looking in my general direction, we might have a problem. They'd probably be looking at Jim anyway. But aside from that, you're not going to hear me complain. And watch out, because turnabout's fair play and I've got my own jealous streak. I've also got a death glare that might not be quite as finely-honed as yours, but it's still pretty goddamned impressive, and I intend to use it on anyone who tries to make a move on you. Damn, Chris, you think _I'm_ gorgeous? You should see the looks _you_ get. You seem oblivious to it, but anytime you walk into a room I swear most of the women and half of the men focus on you. It's not just your physical attractiveness - which, trust me, is off the charts - but something in the way you carry yourself. It's that command aura, I think. There's a confidence about you, but tempered with maturity and wisdom. Plus your power and authority. That always draws people like flies to honey, and you positively radiate it. Okay, now I'm embarrassing myself. Sorry to wax poetic. Er, I'm known to do that from time to time, so I suppose you'll just have to get used to it.

That's unbelievable news that you're going to be here on the Enterprise giving us our one-year evaluation. Of course you're going to stay with me in my quarters, although I hear the visiting dignitaries' quarters are pretty swanky - I've heard tell of a gigantic bathtub. So maybe we'll have to try those quarters out as well. Chris, you can't imagine how much I'm looking forward to having you here. Well, maybe you can. But anyway, I just have one concern - with the cat being out of the bag about our relationship (more on that later), if you do our eval, are there going to be grumblings about favoritism? The Enterprise is a fine ship, Chris, and she's got an outstanding crew, and I don't want there to be any doubt that the eval marks were earned, and not given because you're having sex with the CMO. I mean, I know, and Jim knows, that you wouldn't do that, and I'm sure Admiral Barnett knows it or he wouldn't have assigned you to us. But human nature being what it is, there are bound to be rumors, and I just don't want anyone else to have a shadow cast over their achievements because of our relationship. All right, shutting up now. I'm probably overthinking this, and obviously Starfleet politics are not my forte, and equally obviously they _are_ yours, so I'm sure you've already thought about all this.

So now, yeah, speaking of rumors. Good lord, the rumor mill around here, you would not believe. Well, you probably would because you've experienced the starship pressure cooker, but good god man, the rumors that fly around and the lengths people will go to to pry into things that are none of their business. I swear I've _never_ had so many crewmembers suddenly remember overdue physicals and vaccines, and somehow they all have to be administered by me personally, not by one of my staff. People have no shame. They'll usually pretend to be interested in their health for about five minutes before they break out with, "So, you and Admiral Pike, huh?" or something equally infantile. I'm telling you, Chris, my death glare's getting quite a workout. Pretty soon it'll be as good as yours. Christine tells me that we're now the number one topic for the ship's betting pools - everything from when we'll break up to when we'll get married to what we get up to in bed - who tops and other things that I'm not even going to repeat because it's far too embarrassing. How these people think they're ever going to confirm a winner for some of these bets is beyond me, and clearly they don't have enough to do if they have time for this crap. In fact, I'm going to talk to Jim about increasing duty shifts because people have obviously got far too much free time on their hands, and I can always use extra help with cleaning and inventory around sickbay.

Speaking of what we get up to in bed, I'm hoping when you visit, you bring the toys you had on Milika. No lie, I've been having wet dreams about the things you did to me with those anal beads. The way you lubed them up, inserted them one by one, so slowly, then sucked me off until I was just on the edge. Then you pulled them out, even more slowly than you'd put them in. I remember I was begging you to finish me off, to let me come, but you just smiled and kept going. Once they were out, you dangled them over my face and made me suck and lick them off - god, I remember the strawberry flavor of the lube as if I could taste it now - and then finally - finally you pushed into me hard and fucked me until I came without my cock even being touched.

I'm a doctor, goddamnit, and I _know_ about the pleasure points and erogenous zones of the male body, but a practical demonstration beats any amount of theoretical knowledge. Fuck, Chris, I'm so hard I could practically come right now without being touched. God, the things you do to me - you have no idea. All things considered, it's probably a very good thing that you've got that admiral-level encryption, because I'm not going to be able to stop writing to you about all the things you make me feel and remember and fantasize about.

How secure are the vidcomm lines? Because fuck, Chris, I'd like to show you what you do to me when I get you onscreen, but only if you think it's secure enough. Either way, though, I can't wait to talk to you next week.

And from then it's only, what, eight weeks until the eval? Damn, I can't wait to have you here, not just so we can fuck, but also so we can kiss and touch and fall asleep in the same bed and wake up tangled together. There I go waxing poetic again. It's about time for me to go to bed, so I'll just say take care of yourself - I miss you.

Love,  
Len

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)

Pike,

Bones is whistling now. WHISTLING. And not only that, SMILING. I'm serious here. I have no idea how to relate to a Bones who smiles all the time. You've ruined our simpatico.

Seriously though. You know I'm happy for you both. And the look on Spock's face in the bar on Milika? PRICELESS. Man, I wish I'd had a holocam at the time. Of course he denies that he was surprised, but we all saw it. Tell me you saw it!

Anyway, I have a shitload of paperwork waiting for me and Bones will be here soon to do his so we can bitch about it together while we're working on it. Although I won't be held responsible for what happens if he starts whistling again.

Kirk

p.s. Thanks for the talk on Milika. It helped.

To: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Kirk,

You sound a lot better. I'm glad our talk helped. Len has been really worried about you.

Just remember what I said, learn something from each loss so you can do everything you can to prevent it from happening again. But you have to remember, not everything is within your control. That's the hardest thing about wearing captain's stripes. So much responsibility, and no control over the actions of others. I know I'm sounding like a broken record, son, but it's the only way you're going to get through the losses. And you and I both know there will be more.

Just talk to Len. Talk to me. Don't bottle it up.

I'll see you soon. Until then, be safe.

Pike

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

First of all, I am so sorry about the loss of your baby, Len. God, I cannot imagine how horrible that is to go through, especially since you apparently went through it alone. I'm sorry. No, of course it isn't a deal-breaker. I can understand your reluctance to go through that again. Sure, I am not going to lie. I have always wanted kids, wanted a family. Thought I'd have a couple by this point, but you and I both know life doesn't always work out how you expect. And frankly, if my 'family' ends up consisting of just me and you, I'd still be an incredibly lucky man. And I mean that.

Just so you know, two of Philip's kids were adopted as older children. One was seven when they got him, a refugee from the unrest on Epsilon Ashanti III, and one an orphan from Kenya adopted when she was four. Their other two were born via surrogates, one Allen's, one Philip's. So that's something to think about if the baby thing scares you the most. I would not be opposed to adopting older kids. But I agree, it's nothing I want to think about while we're both on active duty. Me being so much older does weigh on my mind, but like I said, it's not a deal-breaker, Len.

I also need to tell you that it means a lot that you told me something that Jim doesn't know. Yes, that goes straight to my ego, I'll admit. I know it's not a competition between me and Jim, but that damn insecurity creeps up sometimes. So thank you for trusting me enough to tell me. It means a lot.

As far as me doing the inspection on the Enterprise, you're right, people will talk. But in my experience, they will no matter what. And let me tell you something flat out, Len. I pull no punches. Jim knows this. If I don't like something on the ship, I _will_ include that in my report to Starfleet. In fact, I should warn you now that I will be all business while I'm on duty. So if I seem rather abrasive to you, or pretty much ignore you during alpha shift or other shifts when I decide to make surprise appearances -- just expect it. But I promise, off duty and in your quarters, I'm all yours. I just hope you don't take anything I may say or do the wrong way so as to ruin our time together. It may surprise you, but I'm known throughout Starfleet as quite the asshole. You may see it as my commanding presence; others see it quite differently.

So just be prepared, as I'm sure some of my not-so-pleasant past will churn out of the rumor mill at some point. So if you hear something, ask. Don't let it get to you. Of course, this comes from the person who was jealous as hell over the comm I got from Jim about the two of you sitting in his quarters doing paperwork together. What is it they say about no one ever really leaves high school? The older I get, the more I am starting to believe that's true. And don't think the rumor mill is limited to the Enterprise. It's made it all the way back to Earth too. In fact, if the scuttlebutt is to be believed, I made that woman who approached you on Milika _cry_ , and then had her thrown out of the bar. And did you know that I serviced you orally in a booth in the back? Not caring who was watching? Funny, I think I would have remembered that if I had, but I had a good chuckle overhearing that.

Enough about that, though. And back to us. Hell yes, I plan on bringing all the toys with me. The look on your face - the need, and God, Len, the desperation, all for me. So fucking beautiful. And I know you seem uncomfortable when I say things like that, but it's true. Unlike you, I know I am a good-looking man. (And you think _Jim_ has an ego?) Which is one reason my injury and the chair was so hard. I've always been comfortable in my skin. I know what works for me; I know what doesn't. I know my strengths, just like I know my faults. Not that I admit I have them, of course. I've been called a stubborn son of a bitch more times than anyone can count. So just know what you're getting yourself into.

Now back to more enjoyable subjects. Like your cock. And how right now I wish my mouth were sucking it. If you haven't figured it out already, I have an oral fetish. And damn, I love sucking your cock. In fact, I'm touching myself right now, imagining my tongue licking up it. Fuck, Len. And I'm telling you right now, I want _you_ inside me next time we're together. I had a dream about you fucking me the other night and now it's all I can think of. And no, I'm not going to tell you about the dream yet; I want to wait to find out what really happens first. I hope that's okay with you. I know you mentioned you've usually topped in the past. And while we're on the subject, how do you feel about restraints? Nothing heavy, I'm not into hard-core BDSM, but I'm not going to pretend that I haven't thought about tying you to the bed, or putting you on your knees with your hands tied behind your back, making you do my bidding.

Fuck, I just came. Jesus.

And you talk about what I do to you? I think it's obviously mutual. And there are days that I have to put the crystal in the drawer because when you're aroused, frankly, it drives me crazy. And when I'm alone, and it's purple, I jerk myself off knowing, hopefully, that you're doing the same thing. In fact I swear one time it turned aqua the same time I came. You have no idea how hot that was, knowing millions of light years away, we were coming at the same time.

Most of the time though lately, the crystal is green, and I can't help but smile, knowing I have something to do with your happiness. And God if that isn't the sappiest thing I've said so far.

The vidcomm will be secure on my end, but the only way to be sure it's 100% secure on yours is if you are in Jim's ready room or the captain's quarters. Although if you ask Jim, I'm sure he's capable of hacking the comm system to put a secure line into your quarters. Keep in mind, though, if I were to discover a violation of security protocol during my inspection, I would have to report it to Starfleet. But God, I hope you are implying what I think you are implying. I may not be walking, for reasons other than my injury, after three weeks on the Enterprise. I may just have to see what shore leave I have coming I may be able to tack on too. Hope you wouldn't mind that.

Miss you too.

Love,  
Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

Thanks for what you said about losing the baby. It was hard, really hard, and it was made harder by the fact that the people around me didn't seem to think that losing a pregnancy was as bad as losing a child, and that as the prospective father, rather than the one who'd actually had the miscarriage, I wasn't as affected by what happened. I think to some extent even Joss felt that way. I know my friends and family did. They didn't mean to hurt me, but they did, and leaving all of that behind me is one of the reasons I ended up joining Starfleet. Just so you know, her name would have been Joanna. Joanna Rose McCoy. And her birthdate, or at least her due date, was September 20th. I tend to get a little more morose than usual right around that time of year. Warning you now, so you'll be prepared.

Anyway, I know there are options with regard to adoption of older kids, but I'm just - I'm not ready to think about it yet. I don't know when I will be, but I'll let you know, all right?

In terms of telling you things that Jim doesn't know, and how that makes you feel - I get it. I do. Of course it's going to feel good if I trust you with things I wouldn't tell anyone else, and Chris, I'm getting there. It's going to take time for that trust to develop, on both sides, but it will. I'm old-fashioned, Chris, but I believe that committed partners _should_ be each other's number one confidante. And that goes for you too, so I'm hoping that as time goes by you'll see me as someone you can talk to about anything. In fact - hell, Chris. Bring some good bourbon when you come. I have something I need to tell you about, and it's going to be a lot easier for me if I have a few drinks first. I hope after you find out you don't hate me. Sorry to be mysterious, but that's all I'm gonna say right now.

Good god Chris, I wouldn't expect anything less than for you to be all business when you're conducting the eval, and of course I'll be the same way. You think _you're_ known as an abrasive asshole? At least here on the Enterprise, I think I've got you beaten hands down in that department. I will admit, though, that I heard the general opinion of you back in the Academy - word was that you were a pleasant bastard on the surface, but cold-blooded and ruthless underneath. That you'd have a charming smile on your face while you snapped someone like a twig. I probably even believed it at the time. I know that to some extent, to get where you are today, you've had to be ruthless. But there's more to you than that, and anyone who doesn't see it is missing out. And even your detractors admitted that you're an incredibly sexy devil.

Speaking of your sexual reputation. As I'm sure you're well aware, but I'm only beginning to learn, it's impressive in both the number of beings you're supposed to have bedded and the skill you're attributed with having brought to those encounters. According to Jim, he can only aspire to one day have half the reputation for sexual prowess that you have. Anyway, I have to admit that it's good for _my_ ego to be the one who's captured your attention, maybe even gotten you to settle down. It makes me feel like an idiot that I care about that, but it's true. Little Lenny McCoy - awkward, gangly, with his nose always stuck in a book - has managed to snag one of the most celebrated officers in Starfleet history, and one who's well-known to be a sex god on top of that? Yeah, that feels embarrassingly good. And I _am_ in a position to confirm the sex god part, at least.

In fact - on the topic of your reputation, back at the Academy there were rumors that you tended to pick out protégés, and advance their careers in return for sexual favors. I'm sure it won't surprise you to hear that in our class, it was taken as fact that Jim was the one you'd singled out. You and I know that that's bullshit, but people do talk. And so now, I've started hearing rumors that you and I and Jim are either involved in a hot threesome, or else in a tragic love triangle where you're in love with me but I'm in love with Jim, and Jim's in love with you. All I can do is roll my eyes about it. Jim, naturally, finds all this hilarious and does everything he can to fan the flames. So if you hear reports about his outrageous behavior, that's why.

Chris, it's not ego to acknowledge a truth about yourself. You _are_ a good-looking man, and you _should_ be comfortable with that. You obviously don't spend an excessive amount of time dwelling on your own appearance, unlike a certain someone we both know, so it's not narcissism. As for me - well, I know I'm a good doctor. But beautiful? Well, beauty's in the eye of the beholder, I guess, so I'm not going to argue with your opinion, but I just don't see it. I've been called a stubborn son of a bitch in my time too, so we're well-matched in that, at least. Damn, Chris, if we _do_ have children, can you even imagine how mulish they're going to be? I shudder to contemplate it.

Good lord, I think I've created a monster. You with the dirty talk - god _damn_ that's hot. Yeah, Chris, I'd noticed the oral fixation and trust me, it's very much appreciated. You can do unbelievable things with that mouth of yours, so you're not going to catch me complaining. Hell yes, I want to be inside of you. I wasn't sure you'd want that, but Chris - if I can make you feel half as good as you make me feel, it's going to blow your mind. I've never felt anything like it - it's like you're claiming me, and it's about the hottest thing I've ever experienced. And now I'm touching myself and I'm on the edge just thinking about it. Fuck - the thought of you tying me up? Shit, now I'm gonna come. Hold on.

Oh, fuck, Chris, that was intense. So I think you've got your answer. I wonder if you were watching the crystal just then. I have to admit I'd been hoping that once in a while you'd be watching the crystal and jerking off while I was. I like to think that when I'm stroking myself, you are too, that we're getting closer and closer and then coming together. Good to know that's happened at least once.

And yes, Chris, I was implying exactly what you thought I was when I asked if the vidcomm lines were secure. Given what I'd like to do, I have absolutely no desire to be in Jim's ready room _or_ his quarters for the comm, but that's a good idea about having him put a secure line into my quarters. In fact, I asked him yesterday and he said he'd be happy to, as long as we both promised _not_ to tell him what we were going to use it for. I agreed on both our behalves - figured you wouldn't mind too much. Don't worry, there will be no breaches of security protocol when you come to do your eval. Of course, Chris, the more time I can get you, the better. Tack on all the leave time you want. In fact, I have a few days' leave that I can use so that we can actually spend some of that time together when you're here. God, you make me greedy.

Our comm time is scheduled for, what, three days from now? I can't wait. Talk to you soon.

Love,  
Len

  



	6. A Pleasant Walk, A Pleasant Talk (Part 6 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike. PHONE SEX, BBs. (Well, okay, vidcomm sex, but still.) And, you know, some more letters. But mostly, PHONE SEX.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) (the loud one): I think [](http://linelenagain.livejournal.com/profile)[**linelenagain**](http://linelenagain.livejournal.com/) is going to KILL me soon if I keep writing this instead of the Chris/Karl RPS I owe her. But this is just so fun to write! It's like crack! DELICIOUS, CHOCOLATE-COATED CRACK. I can't help myself. From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/)**mga1999** (the quiet one): And she's going to kill ME if I don't get back to the epic she's foaming at the mouth for more of from me. BUT THIS IS LIKE DITCHING SCHOOL.

_**Trek Fic: A Pleasant Walk, A Pleasant Talk (Pike/McCoy, NC-17)**_  
 **Title:** A Pleasant Walk, A Pleasant Talk (Part 6 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17, for SERIOUS.  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** around 4400  
 **Summary:** The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike. PHONE SEX, BBs. (Well, okay, vidcomm sex, but still.) And, you know, some more letters. But mostly, PHONE SEX.  
 **Disclaimer:** Any resemblance to anything whatsoever is purely coincidental.  
 **Authors' Notes:** From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) (the loud one): I think [](http://linelenagain.livejournal.com/profile)[**linelenagain**](http://linelenagain.livejournal.com/) is going to KILL me soon if I keep writing this instead of the Chris/Karl RPS I owe her. But this is just so fun to write! It's like crack! DELICIOUS, CHOCOLATE-COATED CRACK. I can't help myself. From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) (the quiet one): And she's going to kill ME if I don't get back to the epic she's foaming at the mouth for more of from me. BUT THIS IS LIKE DITCHING SCHOOL.

  


To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

I wanted to write to you right away before our vidcomm in a couple of days. I don't want to spend _any_ of our time discussing things from our letters. I've got other plans.

Joanna Rose is a beautiful name, Len. God, I still don't even know what to say. I will try to remember that in September, but just so you know, I will be neck deep in preparations on Exeter, and I have a tendency -- Well, let's just say you probably won't be hearing from me much. Obsessed, asshole, raving lunatic -- I've been called all of the above, and I'm sure many others I'm forgetting, the last month before a launch. I develop tunnel vision and pretty much everything else doesn't exist. I just thought I should warn you ahead of time.

I hope you don't think I'm pressuring you about kids either, Len. I'm not. I know men don't have the same biological clocks as women, and we aren't limited to the same child-bearing years either. But I swear, the clock has been ticking in me the last fifteen years, and seems to be getting more frantic as I get older. I just have to be honest here. If we do have kids, I'd like it sooner rather than later. I'd like to be able to run and catch a football with our son/daughter.

I'm not saying tomorrow, Len. I'm just saying that when this five year tour on the Exeter is over, I'm done with starship duty. It would have been the same for the Enterprise; I think I already told you that. I just need to go out on my own terms, and not be forced by my injury. I still don't know whether I will teach or not. While I have enjoyed this semester, I'm not sure that is where my future lies. Make no mistake though, I am staying in Starfleet in some capacity.

So I'm just telling you this so you know. I don't want something like this to come between us and I think if we keep talking about it openly, it won't. And I am happy being a godfather to Philip and Allen's children. And while they are all pretty much grown now, I still feel like I contribute to their well-being from time to time, and I'll have to admit, I'm looking forward to when they have their own children.

As far as rumors and reputation, I'm not quite sure what to say, or what you want me to say. I do admit that the threesome rumor with you and Jim makes me chuckle, and by the way, yes, I have had a few threesomes in the past. None of them students at the academy. As far as the protégés rumor? Yes, there was one cadet over fifteen years ago that I became involved with. I'm not particularly proud of that time. The cadet ended up leaving Starfleet and that was probably my fault. Even though I had been up-front with him that I was not looking for anything serious, he eventually wanted that. There were no sexual favors involved because he wasn't command track. I suspect some of those rumors came from that. I learned my lesson and other than one other time, have not been involved with anyone in Starfleet. Have I fucked people in Starfleet? Of course I have. But except for that cadet, and one other person, they were peers or within one rank and neither under my command or the same track.

The other person I was involved with, Len, was my first officer. As Jim has found out the last year, a captain on a starship doesn't have much opportunity for sexual activity other than your right or left hand. You take advantage of shore leave, usually have a pretty extensive holoporn collection, and occasionally get to bed someone on an away mission. Yes, I've done all of that. And I'll admit my reputation hasn't been exaggerated. As you've discovered, I like sex. And as a captain, you have a very small rank field of anyone you can become involved with. And yes, it's frowned upon, but it's not a court-martial offense. My first officer and I were sexually compatible, and it worked out well for both of us at the time.

As far as how you've managed to snag an admiral? Hell, I still pinch myself that you're attracted to and want someone twenty years older than you. You could have anyone, Len, whether you know it or not. I'm sorry for what your ex-wife did to you to take that confidence away. And I feel honored that I can give some of it back to you. I mean that. I am so incredibly lucky to be with you. Don't ever forget that.

Now, on to less serious things. I walked a mile on my treadmill yesterday for the first time. I barely made it to the shower this morning, though, and I was so sore that I had to use the autochair most of the day. I only have six months left to medically qualify for command, and it has me a bit on edge. Yes, I'm aware it was a very short time ago that I couldn't even stand, or walk across the room. I know that. It's still hard, though.

And as wonderful as the sex was, my stamina there isn't what it was. Thank you for making me feel otherwise, though. But you and I both know I have a long ways to go. I want to be able to stand up and fuck you from behind. I want to be able to fuck you on all fours with control. There are so many things I want to do to you, with you, Len, that I can't yet. And before you get all insecure, I am not in the least bit unhappy with anything we've done so far. It's truly been amazing, Len. No one has ever made me feel like you have before. Yes, the sex is hot. Damn hot. But there is something else, that I can't explain, I would call it passion, but it's even more than that. Whatever it is, just makes it so much better than anything I've done before.

God, here I go with all this romantic sappy shit again. See what you do to me? Next thing you know, I'll be sending you love sonnets.

Anyway, I'm going to go walk off some of this sexual tension on the treadmill if I can still move. I'm _really_ looking forward to our vidcomm. Write me back before if you have any concerns with what I've said here, okay? I want the vidcomm to have our full attention for more enjoyable things.

Love,  
Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

In terms of kids, I'm not quite sure what else to say. I just don't know if I'll want kids or not. Let's just... drop it for now, if that's okay.

I didn't mean to make you feel defensive about your past, Chris. Lord knows you don't know anyone any explanations, least of all me. Just don't be too surprised if I feel insecure from time to time. As I'm sure you've guessed, my own experience isn't nearly as extensive as yours. No threesomes, no what I assume are open relationships, from what you've said, in my past. No friends-with-benefits arrangements. I guess what I'm wondering is - am I going to be enough for you? Good god, I don't even know if you prefer men or women. Are you going to miss being with a woman? Are you going to want to be able to have sex with women? Or other men? All right, now I'm feeling like an idiot. I know I'm being ridiculous. I'm going to stop now.

Chris, you're never going to hear me complain about you being romantic or sappy. Hell, you can send me love sonnets if you want, although I admit I know nothing at all about poetry. I'll probably get sappy - well, even more sappy than I already have - as well. In my past relationships, I tended to use quite a few pet names - honey, sweetheart, things like that. That doesn't seem quite right for us, though. Well, we'll figure it out as we go along, I guess.

Damn, Chris, reading your letters always gets me hard. I'm not going to take care of it, though, because our vidcomm is tonight and I want to wait until then. I'll talk to you in a few hours. Can't wait.

Love,  
Len

  
Transcript of video communication between Terminal: Enterprise, Quarters of McCoy, Leonard and Terminal: Starfleet Officer Residential, Apartment of Pike, Christopher

Encryption Level: 1A

Participants: User ID 8943120C, Lieutenant Commander Leonard McCoy; User ID 5829899A, Admiral Christopher Pike

Auto-transcribe requested by: Admiral Christopher Pike

Transcript follows.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Chris, good lord, it's good to see your face.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: You, too, Len. It's been too long.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: How've you been?

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: Not bad. Be better when I'm there on the Enterprise, though.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: How's the p.t. coming?

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: It's fine, Len. You have, what, thirty minutes allotted for this vidcomm? This what you want to spend our time talking about?

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Damn it, Chris, you know it's not.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: Good. Then take your shirt off.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Yeah. Yeah, okay. You too.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: God, Len, you really are beautiful.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Good god, man, you're making me blush. [pause] Damn, Chris, you look amazing. I can tell you've been keeping up with your recommended workout routine - your abdominal musculature is regaining the tone and definition it had before the injuries.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: [laughter] Thank you for your professional opinion, Doctor McCoy.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: You're welcome. If I were with you, I'd show my appreciation by tracing the outline of all of those gorgeous muscles with my tongue.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: [intake of breath] Yeah? What else would you do?

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: I'd kiss you until we were both out of breath. I'd run my hands all over you, every part I could reach.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: I'd have one hand buried in your gorgeous thick hair.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: I'd suck on your neck, lick it and bite it. God, I love how sensitive you are there.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: Noticed that, huh? Well, I've noticed something about you too. Don't think I've ever been with anyone whose nipples were quite as sensitive as yours.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Fuck, Chris.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: Yeah, we'll get to that. For now, I want you to suck on your thumb. Get it real wet for me, Len. Then I want you to run it over your nipples. I want to watch them get hard.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Ahhh.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: Yeah, that's it. Now I want you to pinch them for me. Harder, Len. Harder.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Oh, god.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: That's it. Damn that's hot. You're already completely hard, aren't you?

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Yeah. You?

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: Len, I was hard before this comm started, just thinking about what we were going to do.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: I want to see.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: Oh, you do? I'll show you mine if you show me yours.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: [laughter] Yeah, okay. Just a minute.

[rustling noises in background]

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: Shit, Len, I love your cock. It's making my mouth water just looking at it.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: God, Chris, I love the things you can do with your mouth.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: I want you to touch yourself now, Len. But don't come until I tell you to. Can you do that?

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Fuuuuuuck. Yeah.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: Good. Now tell me exactly what I do with my mouth that you like so much.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: God, Chris, I -

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: Not yet, Len. Hold on for me.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Okay. Okay.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: Good. That's good, Len. Now talk to me. Tell me what you want me to do to you with my mouth.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Damn it. I want you to suck me down, all the way. Swallow me to the root.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: You like it when I do that? When I deep-throat you?

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Hell yeah.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: Good. What else?

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: I like... Oh. I like it when you suck on my balls.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: Oh yeah? Touch them for me now, Len. Roll them and tug on them, the way I'd be doing with my mouth if I was there.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Shit. Chris, I want to see you touch yourself too.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: Like this? This what you want to see?

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Fuck. Yes.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: Do you have some lube there with you?

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Umm. Yeah. Here.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: Good. Get your fingers lubed up real good. I want to watch you fuck yourself on your fingers.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Yeah. Yeah, okay, hold on.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: Scoot forward on your chair and spread your legs for me. Hook your legs over the arms of your chair. I want to see this. Want to see you all spread out for me. Yeah, good. Now fuck yourself with two fingers to start. Don't touch your cock now. With your other hand, I want you to play with your nipples.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Oh, God, Chris.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: No, don't close your eyes. Look at me. I want to see those gorgeous eyes of yours.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Chris...

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: Right here, Len. Can you see what you're doing to me? See how hard I am?

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Yeah. Yeah.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: You're close, aren't you? Just from fucking yourself on your fingers and playing with your nipples. Fuck, you have no idea how hot that is, Len. Do you think you could come just from someone playing with your nipples? No other contact?

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: I... I don't know.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: When I'm there on the Enterprise, I'm gonna find out. I'm going to tie you to your bed and just tease and torture your nipples for as long as it takes. Hours, if that's what it takes. Until you're begging me to touch your cock.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Oh, fuck, Chris...

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: Add another finger now. I want you spreading yourself open with three fingers. Get yourself ready for my cock. You're gonna fuck me when I'm there, but Len, I'm going to fuck you too. Over and over again.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Damn it...

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: Yeah. Twist your nipples for me, Len. Yeah, like that. Keep looking at me. God, you have no idea how hot you look. Spread out, wide open, playing with yourself for me. Doing what I tell you. Showing me exactly how good it makes you feel.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Chris, please.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: Yeah, fuck, Len, beg me. Beg me for it. I want to hear you begging to be allowed to come.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Fuck, _please_ , Chris. Please let me come. Please let me touch my cock.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: Shit, Len, you beg so prettily. I'm so close to coming, just from that. I'm having to hold myself back.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Oh God, Chris, please.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: Yeah, yeah, all right. Keep your fingers inside yourself. You can touch your cock with your other hand.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Oh dear sweet Jesus.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: Yeah, Len. Look at me. I want to see your eyes. Such pretty hazel eyes. So expressive. You show everything with your eyes, you know that?

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Chris...

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: Yeah, Len, I know. All right, Len, come for me. Come for me now.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Ohhhhhhhh. Oh fuuuuuuuuuck.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: So fucking beautiful, Len. So beautiful, you have no idea. Fuck, gonna come now too. For you, Len. All for you.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Oh God, Chris.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: Oh. Oh. Oh. Shit fuck yeah oh god _Len_.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Fuuuck.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: [breathing heavily]

[two minutes of breathing noises from both users]

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Shit, Chris, that was...

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: Yeah. Yeah, it was.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Fuck, I think my vidcomm time's almost up.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: [laughter] Glad we finished, then.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Good god, yes. Me too.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: Thanks for that, Len.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Me? Thank _you_ , Chris. Shit, that was unbelievable.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: The feeling's entirely mutual.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: I guess I won't see you again for eight weeks, huh?

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: I know. But I'll write. And eight weeks isn't that long, really.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Yeah, I know. I'll just... I'll miss you.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: I'll miss you too. Keep yourself safe out there, all right? I... I worry about you.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: I'll be careful. You too, all right? Don't go doing anything stupid when you're so close to being back at full health.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: All right, got it, doctor.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: I'm not kidding. I want you to be able to do those things you mentioned in your last comm - stand behind me and fuck me, and fuck me while I'm on all fours. So I've got a vested interest in seeing you get healthy, here.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: Hell, Len, you trying to get me going for another round? I _am_ 53 years old, you know. I don't recover that quickly.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: You and I both know you do, given proper motivation. But no, unfortunately, my comm time's up and I've got to sign off now. Take care of yourself, Chris. I'll see you in eight weeks.

[Adm. Christopher Pike]: You take care too. I'm glad we got to do this. Good night, Len.

[Lt. Cmdr. Leonard McCoy]: Good night, Chris.

  
-end transcript-

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

A quick follow up to your letter you sent before our vidcomm.

About the threesomes or me sleeping with other people: No, I would never expect that in my relationship with you or in a relationship, period. Let me make one thing clear, Len. When I am in a committed relationship, which we are, there isn't anyone else. I know you're old fashioned and that's a given with you, and I'm sorry if my reputation has made you wonder otherwise.

I told you, I was with my wife for over five years, and even though we were apart for a lot of that, I was never with anyone else. Even after I knew she was seeing someone else, I upheld my vows until the divorce was final. Honor is very important to me, and when I make a promise, a vow, I keep it.

Yes, I have been in open relationships with both women and men where we still had sex outside the relationship. But those were mutual and frankly, I don't even consider those real relationships. More like having a regular sex partner, but still dating, or, to put it crudely, fucking others.

As far as whether I prefer men or women? Yes, the committed relationships I've had so far have been with women. And I think you know why, and I'm not going to bring that issue up again because you asked me to drop it, and I completely understand that. I'm not going to lie and say that I don't like being with women. But to be honest, sex has always been better with men for me. And with you, I not only have incredible sex, I have the emotional connection we're building. With you, I see myself having everything I could possibly want or need.

So I hope this has put to rest any doubts you're having. I'll admit I've had some of the same ones, considering you were married to a woman. You also mentioned your high school girlfriend before, so frankly, while I know you've been with men before, I got the impression it was just experimentation and that you prefer women. Am I wrong?

Just remember you aren't alone in your insecurities. Mine get worse when I have to spend the day in my autochair because I'm having back spasms, like today, and can hardly move. I'd say more, but I can already hear your 'Good god, man' in my head telling me I'm being foolish feeling like this. And yes, I'm going for a massage shortly to help that.

As far as love sonnets? You might change your mind. I can be a sappy bastard, and sonnets to me are like music to my soul. Poems and lyrics are similar in so many ways. And music is another thing I can't wait to share with you next time you're dirtside. This one though, since we're apart, I thought would be appropriate.

_Thus can my love excuse the slow offence_  
Of my dull bearer when from thee I speed:  
From where thou art why should I haste me thence?  
Till I return, of posting is no need.  
O, what excuse will my poor beast then find,  
When swift extremity can seem but slow?  
Then should I spur, though mounted on the wind;  
In winged speed no motion shall I know:  
Then can no horse with my desire keep pace;  
Therefore desire of perfect'st love being made,  
Shall neigh--no dull flesh--in his fiery race;  
But love, for love, thus shall excuse my jade;  
Since from thee going he went wilful-slow,  
Towards thee I'll run, and give him leave to go.

By the way, I'm attaching a transcript of our chat. Since it was on Starfleet comms, as much as I wanted to, I didn't think it was wise to keep an audio or video copy. So I had the files deleted. But I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I have been. God, Len, you really have no idea what you do to me, do you? I also think when I have you at my place this fall, we need to make a video or two to keep us company when we're apart. What do you think about that?

Lastly, don't worry. I'm taking care of myself. I promise. I know I'll need to be ready for the five weeks I get to spend on the Enterprise with you. God, I cannot wait. I'm hard just thinking about it. So before I head to my massage appointment, I'd better go jerk off. I'll be thinking of you fucking me.

Love,  
Chris

Dear Chris,

Good god, man, I can't believe you kept a transcript of that vidcomm! I think even my hair is blushing right now. I will admit that I've enjoyed re-reading it, and I'll enjoy it even more when I've got the time to properly appreciate it - hopefully tonight after shift. I've never made a porn vid before, but with you? Yeah, I'd like that. I have a feeling I'll be doing a lot of things for the first time with you.

From what I can tell, that poem is beautiful, Chris. But I'm not even going to pretend I have any idea what it means. You'll have to explain it to me when you come see me. God, I'm revealing my ignorance here, but that IS Shakespeare, right? No doubt Jim would be able to tell me all about the poem, its historical context, quote several academic analyses of it, and have thirty other sonnets memorized. He's completely obsessed with ancient Earth literature. He even has a collection of paper books. But anyway, I'm not going to ask him about it, because that poem is something between you and me. So I'll just wait until we're together and then you can tell me what it means, or even better, give me a demonstration.

As for your question about my preferences - I've never really tried to label myself. I'm attracted to whoever I'm attracted to, whether they're male or female. Yeah, most of my serious relationships have been with women, but I've had relationships with men. It wasn't "experimentation" - Chris, I don't have unattached sex. Period. So when I say I've been with men before, it was in the context of a monogamous relationship. Not all of those relationships were earth-shatteringly serious, but it wasn't just sex for fun, or sex to try something new. And as you said, we've got both incredible sex and an emotional connection, and I can't imagine ever wanting anything more than that. I hope that helps.

All right, I've got to get ready for my duty shift. But Chris, what have you been doing that you gave yourself back spasms that bad? Take it easy, for god's sake. At this point, pushing yourself harder physically is not going to decrease your recovery time. When you're here, I'll just have to make sure you spend lots of time in bed to compensate. And in that tub in the visiting dignitaries' quarters. And I'll be happy to give you some long massages as well - it's a specialty of mine.

Damn it, really going now.

Love,  
Len

  



	7. The Moon Was Shining Sulkily (Part 7 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike. What happened during Pike's 5-week visit to the Enterprise? And is Jim just a _wee_ bit over-invested in McCoy's love life?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) (the loud one): OMG I cannot think of a single thing to say. Enjoy this, it's the first and probably last time it'll ever happen. From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/)**mga1999** (the quiet one): My fault for the delay in this. Having computer issues for probably the next week.

_**Trek Fic: The Moon Was Shining Sulkily (Pike/McCoy, R)**_  
 **Title:** The Moon Was Shining Sulkily (Part 7 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** R-ish, this time. SORRY.  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** around 6500  
 **Summary:** The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike. What happened during Pike's 5-week visit to the Enterprise? And is Jim just a _wee_ bit over-invested in McCoy's love life?  
 **Authors' Notes:** From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) (the loud one): OMG I cannot think of a single thing to say. Enjoy this, it's the first and probably last time it'll ever happen. From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) (the quiet one): My fault for the delay in this. Having computer issues for probably the next week.

  


To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)

Pike,

I don't care if this is inappropriate and you can write me up on charges for all I care, I just have a couple of things to say to you.

You're an asshole. People at the Academy used to tell me that all the time, and I used to _defend_ you. I won't make that mistake again.

You don't deserve Bones. He deserves so much better than you. Unfortunately, he's in love with you. So I'm going to support him the best I can. And when you break his fucking heart, I _will_ be putting you back in that chair. Count on it.

Kirk

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

I feel I should apologize for the things being a little tense when I left the Enterprise. Anything that went wrong the last five weeks was my fault, and I'm sorry. I take full responsibility for my actions, or inactions, because I'm guilty of both. I let my insecurities bring out the worst in me, and once again, caused tension not just with us, but with you and Jim. I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say. Well, yes I do; I can explain why. So here goes nothing.

First of all, and most importantly. I meant what I said. I love you, Len. I'm sure some things that happened after may have made you doubt that, but don't. We've been living in a bubble the last year -- writing, and having whatever stolen moments we could get here and there. So spending five weeks together, particularly when we were both working, was bound to cause some issues, especially given the fact that we are both stubborn and set in our ways. And I don't admit I'm wrong very often either.

With that in mind, let me just say it. I was wrong. I overreacted when I saw the holo of you and Jim kissing on the shelf in his quarters that first day. Jim explained it to me and laughed, and when I confronted you later in my quarters, and you told me the exact same thing he did, I should have let it go. Or really, I should have told you it bothered me more than I admitted, especially when you confessed you had a copy of the picture in your drawer somewhere. You both said it wasn't a big deal. It was a party. You were both drunk. Jim was dared. I of all people should know how Jim Kirk responds to a dare. I get it. Unfortunately the asshole in me didn't. And as much as I tried, I let it get under my skin. But I hid it, as I'm so good at doing.

It didn't help seeing you and Jim joined at the hip on the Enterprise. I know I should not have expected you to drop everything for me, and spend every moment with me -- God, I sound pathetic -- and I know you changed a lot of your daily routine with him to spend more time with me. I'm admitting, though, that I didn't like waking up to find the bed empty, knowing you were having breakfast with Jim in his quarters or the mess. I _get_ that it's how you talk about work things, and how you prepare for your days. 'Getting it' and seeing you two laughing and stealing things off each other's plates is a little different. I'd just come off a gamma-shift inspection the first time it happened. You were on alpha shift. You were just trying to let me get some sleep, so you snuck out without waking me. Yet, when I got to the mess and saw you two there, eating together, I found myself more jealous than I ever thought I could be.

Fuck, Len. I'm an ass. Instead of enjoying the 'gift' of the time given to us, I spent time brooding, hiding that I _was_ brooding most of the time, which ultimately led to our fight near the end. I know sorry isn't good enough. I hope explaining how I feel, which I should have done while I was there, helps you understand. Just know it's not your fault. I need to find a way to deal with this issue myself. I discussed it briefly with Dr. Rossen yesterday and plan on delving in more at my next appointment, just so you know. I want this to work, Len. And I know I'm going to have to get over my baseless and unwarranted jealousy of you and Jim for that to happen. I told you before that I'm not the jealous type, and that was true, up until now. I've never been the jealous type before, Len, but with you, everything's different. I feel a possessiveness toward you that I've never felt toward any of my other lovers, not even my wife.

Rationally, I know there is nothing between you and Jim, and there never will be. Irrationally though, my mind -- It's just the intimacy between you two -- I'm jealous of that, Len. I know you two have been best friends for four years, and spend more time together than most married couples. And while we are sexually intimate, it bothers me more than I want to admit that there are so many little things I don't know about you. Of course, these things you usually find out from spending time together, and most of our time 'together' has been spent in bed. I'm not a patient man, Len, as you are probably figuring out. When I want something, I take it. I might as well be the caveman that puts a mark on your face to show you belong to my clan -- that you belong to me -- and keep you in my cave away from everyone else. I know that's not possible, but that's my mentality.

Yes, I have gotten to know a lot about you through our letters. In some ways more so than if we had been 'dating' traditionally. But in other ways, being apart, we hardly know each other at all. I don't know what the answer is. I know I shouldn't expect to 'know' you as well as Jim does, and vice versa. I promise you though, that I am going to work on it. I am not going to let my irrational jealousy ruin what we have. One good trait I have is that I fight for what I want. I don't give up. I'll figure this out, Len. I promise, and you know from what I've told you before, I keep my promises.

I love you, Len. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I mean that. I meant it when I first said it to you. That moment, lying in your bed, both of us simply relaxing and reading PADDs. I remember looking down at you, your head resting on my stomach, and running my hand through your hair, and thinking -- feeling so much love that I just could not hold it in anymore. When I whispered your name, and you looked up at me, and I said those words -- God, Len, it was amazing. And the look in your eyes, and hearing you repeat them? I have goosebumps right now just thinking about it. Making love with you after, you whispering in my ear _'Come for me, darlin'_ as I thrust inside you. It was unbelievable, Len. You have no idea.

That first week there when you went on the away mission to aid Viaxis III, and the civil unrest broke out while you were down there providing aid. Scariest moment of my life, Len -- well, other than when I thought the earth was about to be destroyed because of me. When the Enterprise lost contact with you and the away team, the thought of losing you -- Thank God for Jim and his stubbornness for going down to get you himself, even if he was severely injured doing so. I'm sorry you had to worry about him; I was pretty worried myself. Honestly, and personally, I'm really glad he's there to look out for you, Len; I'm glad both of you look out for each other. I am just a fool sometimes. Remember that later, okay?

I know our five weeks wasn't all bad. In fact, almost all of it was good, more than good. And the sex -- God, coming without you even touching my cock when you fucked me? Like I told you, that's never happened before. And as much as I'd like to talk how much you turn me on, I think we have more important things we need to be discussing in these letters for awhile.

I'm probably beating myself up more than I should, but I keep seeing the look on your face when I accused you of lying about you and Jim. And Jim needs to put the holo back up on his shelf, where it belongs. He should never have taken it down. I need to get a grip on myself, and I promise, I'm going to do my best to fix this. I'm not going to lose you over this.

I'm late for p.t. or I'd write more, and I apologize for this letter being all over the place. It's kind of where my emotions are right now. I want to 'talk' on comms once a week too from now on if that's okay with you. We'll figure out the best time to make that happen.

So now that I know how you take your coffee, that you would put peaches on everything if you had a choice, and that you can't eat when Jim is on away missions, tell me something else I don't know. I'd love to know what you do on your down time. I'm looking forward to your answer.

Jim is right. I don't deserve you. I'm sorry, Len. I'm truly, truly, sorry.

Love,  
Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

"A little tense"? Good god, man, you have a gift for understatement. Must be why you've risen so high through the ranks of Starfleet politics. I would have called the last couple days of your visit a goddamned disaster. I don't think you and Jim spoke more than five words to each other that weren't required by protocol. So yeah, you caused tension between you and Jim. You caused tension between you and me. But let me tell you something that you may not want to hear - you didn't cause any tension between me and Jim.

Look - me and Jim, I can't really explain it, but I'm going to try. As we say in the south, I don't have any "people." My parents are dead, and they were both only children, so I've got no aunts or uncles or first cousins. I'm an only child, so no siblings or nieces or nephews either. My grandparents are dead. The closest living relative I've got is a second cousin who I haven't seen since I was 11 or so. As for friends - well, you might have noticed I'm not the most sociable person. Most of my "friends" in Georgia were couples that I met through Joss. Needless to say, she took them all with her in the divorce. That left me with a couple of acquaintances from high school, college, and med school, and I haven't really kept up with any of them. So when I say that until recently I didn't have anybody but Jim, you'll know I mean it. And Jim - well, I won't go into details because it's not my story to tell, but he doesn't have anyone either. We've got each other, and from the moment we met it's been us against the world. There's not much that could get between us. He's always going to come for me, the way he did on that planet, and I'm always going to do everything in my power, and maybe some that's not, to keep him safe. That's just the way it is. I'm not going to justify that to you, or apologize for it, and I'm certainly not going to change it. He's my family, and I'm his. The fact that I'm so close to him doesn't detract from how I feel about you. I don't know how to be plainer than that, and I don't know how to say that so you'll believe me.

Now, you said you "got it" about us before, and maybe you did, but seeing it in action is always a little different than knowing something in theory, isn't it? So you got a little dose of reality and you didn't like it much. That's fine. I can understand that. But Chris, you've got to talk to me, for god's sake. I'm a doctor, not a mind-reader, and when you won't tell me what's wrong - when you flat out deny that anything _is_ wrong when I ask you - there's not much I can do.

You want to know more about me? Just ask. I was going to tell you something that's really difficult for me to talk about (and before you ask, yes, Jim already knows). If you remember, I asked you to bring some bourbon so I could have some liquid courage first. But Chris, with how tense things were, it wasn't the time. I wasn't going to go revealing my deepest, darkest secrets when you were sulking over the fact that Jim stole a piece of toast off my plate or some damn thing. And yes, Chris, it was pretty goddamned obvious that you were unhappy, even if I didn't know exactly why.

When you were here, I felt like I was being pulled in two directions. I wanted to spend time with you - of course I did. I spent all the time I could manage with you. But I wasn't going to abandon Jim. He's had too much of that in his life already. He needs to know that no matter what's going on with me and you, I'm not going to up and disappear on him. And Chris - it wouldn't hurt for him to be able to feel that from you too - that you're there for him and care about him, regardless of your relationship with me. I've told you before you're the closest thing he has to a father figure. He needs to know that isn't going to go away because you're jealous over how close he and I are. So while I appreciate the apology from you - and I do - I think you owe him one as well. He's hurting, even if he won't admit it. He said you don't deserve me? Interfering brat. Ignore him - contrary to his opinion, I am an adult fully capable of deciding who and what I deserve and want without any input from him.

All right. Look. I love you. I do, even when you're behaving like an infant. What is it about you starship captain types that you can be both incredibly courageous and incredibly immature? I wouldn't be bothering to write all this if I didn't want to make this work, if I didn't love you. I don't say those words easily, or lightly. When I do, I consider them a promise, and I keep my promises too, Chris.

So let's put this behind us. I don't think there's any point rehashing the past. It's over and done. We've got what, about 10 weeks until our planned visit earthside? So we'll keep writing. We'll vidcomm every week, and we'll spend some of that time actually talking (don't worry, I said _some_ , not all). We'll get to know each other, and Chris, hopefully you'll realize that I'm _yours_. You don't need to tattoo my face and stick me in a cave. You've already got me. All I can say is that you're goddamned lucky you're so fantastic in bed, you bastard.

All right, something about me. As for my down time, well, I spend most of it with Jim, and that's kind of a sore subject right at the moment, so I'll go with something else for now. How about a childhood anecdote? One Jim hasn't heard, even. When I was about six - remember the second cousin I mentioned? - anyway, her name is Pamela, she's about two years older than me, and she was a holy terror as a child. She had this life-sized clown doll that used to scare the bejeezus out of me. So one evening when the adults were having a party - they were all out on the veranda getting drunk - she locked me in her closet with the goddamned thing. The walls were thick and nobody heard me shouting. Finally the next morning someone noticed I was missing and she 'fessed up and let me out. No lie, to this day clowns scare the shit out of me. So there you go, my humiliation for the day.

I mean it though, anything else you want to know, just ask. So how about you? I've told you about my family (or lack thereof) - who are your people? Tell me something about your childhood. Good lord, Chris, I find it difficult to imagine you as a kid. You said you grew up in the desert - what was that like? Someday I'd like to go there with you, to see the place that shaped you. And someday I'll take you to Georgia too - not that there's anyone there for you to meet, really, but in some ways, it'll always be home to me - hot wet summers, sweetgum and hickory trees, flowering yellow jasmine and white-tailed deer. I own the property that I grew up on, but I haven't been back there in years. Haven't been able to face the memories. Maybe with you, I'll be able to.

Well I think that's all for now. Let me know when you want to do a vidcomm. I'm in love with you, Chris, and I'm going to convince you of that if it's the last thing I do.

Yours (and I do mean that),  
Len

p.s. The hickey you left on my neck is still there, and it's still getting looks and whispers from the crew. Guess the caveman side of you found a way to mark me, huh? Not complaining, by the way.

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

Understatement? I prefer to call it being diplomatic. And yes, that is supposed to make you smile. Although If I can do that at all after my -- fine, 'disastrous' visit -- it will be a miracle. But as you said, we're done rehashing it, even though I still feel like I owe you a million more apologies.

So clowns, huh? I can imagine how something like that would scare a poor child to death. Especially being locked up all night with it in a closet. I can't say offhand that I have anything like that from my childhood that I'm afraid of, other than space, which I already told you about. Snakes used to make me -- well, I guess I was afraid of them somewhat. The rattlers out in the desert can get pretty loud when you are near. But when I was about ten, I went to summer camp where one of the counselors was a snake wrangler. And I found myself fascinated with them, and soon had a few as pets. Boy, my mother _did not_ like that. She made me keep them in one of the barns.

As far as my 'people', well, I have no siblings, but luckily my parents are still alive and well and living in Florida. My maternal grandmother is still alive too, at 108, and lives with them part of the time. My parents like to travel a lot, so they are off-world right now. I have two aunts and an uncle, and several cousins. The only one I'm really close to is Annie, who, as I told you before, keeps up the old family homestead in Mojave. My mother never really liked the desert, so as soon as my father retired (he was a Federation diplomat) they gave me the ranch and moved to Florida.

Growing up in the desert, well, it's funny how I never really liked it when I was young. Like I told you, I got out of there as soon as I graduated secondary school at 17 and joined Starfleet. But as I got older, and even more so in the last ten years, I've really come to appreciate how beautiful it is. It's peaceful, and there is nothing like riding a horse along the trails. I grew up with horses and while it wasn't really a working farm, we had cows, pigs, chickens, sheep, goats: the works. There are only horses, chickens, and goats there now.

I know I've told you about my love of music some, but I don't think I've ever told you I was in a band or two. The first was during secondary school and was the typical high school garage band. But at Starfleet, I joined a band and we'd play in a club or two off campus on the weekend. When I went out on a ship, of course it ended, but some of the guys and I still get together when we're all around and do a gig or two. If I hadn't decided to stay in Starfleet, I probably would still be playing in a jazz bar somewhere.

I'm not sure what else to say now since you don't want to rehash the trip. I do have to say though, that having you in bed with me every night, even the nights we didn't have sex -- well, despite the craziness going on in my head, I'd never been so content, Len. And I mean that. I'm happy just being with you. And I promise, I'm working hard on my issues with Dr. Rossen, and she may refer me to someone else that might be able to help more.

I know your schedule on the Enterprise is too fluid to make a standing date for our vidcomms, but let's try for Sunday nights, right before you go to bed. So say somewhere around 2100. I'll just make sure I'm home and if you're free, we'll talk.

I also want to formally invite you to the Starfleet Officer's Ball in October since you'll be dirtside for all the ceremonies for the launch of the Exeter and the other three ships. Yes, as my date, Len, in front of all of the Admiralty and dignitaries. I can't wait to show you off to everyone.

As far as my p.t. -- Well, I'm starting to worry I won't be cleared medically in time to qualify for command of the Exeter. I haven't given up, but things have slowed down a bit with my recovery and the doctors aren't sure why. A plateau, I guess, so we may change some things to see if that helps. Any suggestions you have would be welcome.

And now to the subject that you don't want to rehash, but I need to ask this, Len. Are you attracted to Jim? I know you love him, and I certainly heard him say 'love you too, Bones' during your usual bantering. You told me to ask, so I'm asking. I believe that you love me, and that you only want _me_ \--well, most of the time. I'm just trying to -- hell, I don't even know what I'm doing. I'm trying to get over this, because I know it's going to ruin what we have if I don't. And yes, I know I need to write Jim, but I'm just not ready to yet. I hope you can understand that. I will, though. I want things to be right between all of us before you are both dirtside in October.

I love you, Len.

Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

Of course you still make me smile. Every time I see a comm from you, I get a ridiculously sappy grin on my face. And I do appreciate your diplomacy. It's probably good that at least one of us in this relationship can be diplomatic when he wants to, and it's certainly not ever going to be me. I'm glad that my bluntness doesn't put you off.

Yes, clowns. And I'll tell you why I told that story to you and not to Jim. If I told Jim - I could almost guarantee that the next night, a life-size clown doll would drop down from my ceiling into my bed, and the day after that, there'd be a vid of my reaction circulating on the ship's intranet. Yeah, I do love him, and I trust him with my life, but - how do I explain this? I don't necessarily trust him to know where to draw the line when it comes to certain things. I don't always trust his maturity, or his discretion. Those things are important to me, Chris, and you've got them in spades.

So you like snakes? Can't say I think much of 'em, but they don't particularly bother me either. If you want to keep snakes as pets once we've retired, feel free, but the first time one of 'em escapes from its cage, they're out of the house. Fair enough?

What are your parents like, and your grandmother? Are you close with them? You said your dad was a diplomat, so does that mean you spent a lot of time off-world as a kid?

Sounds like our childhoods had something in common - growing up around animals. My daddy was a doctor, and my mama was a veterinarian. We lived in the country and we always had chickens, goats, pigs, one or two horses, and whatever other random animals we picked up here and there - mama had a soft heart and if she ever came across an animal that needed a home, she'd adopt it. One time we had some alpacas - we made yarn from their fur and it was the softest thing I'd ever felt. We also grew a lot of our own food - we had a small peach orchard, as you might've guessed, and we grew vegetables and other fruits as well. I still have a taste for fresh fruits and vegetables, and I'll take the real thing over the replicated kind any day of the week. My daddy used to love fishing, and I'd go with him on the weekends. We'd catch trout, bass, or catfish in the stream that bordered our property, clean them, and then cook and eat them that night. So as I told you before, I do love fish. Especially fresh trout, pan-fried with just-picked pole beans on the side. And my mama's peach cobbler for desert. That's my idea of heaven, right there. I do miss growing fruits and vegetables. That's one thing I want to do when I'm back planetside long-term.

So you're a musician, as well as a music appreciator? You're a man of many talents, Chris. And believe me, I'd know. What instrument do you play? I'd love for you to play for me some time, if you wouldn't mind. As you figured out when you were here, I know next to nothing about music, but I want to learn. I should say: I want you to teach me.

Hell, Chris, when I said I didn't want to rehash the visit, I meant the bad parts. Of course I want to reminisce about the good parts. I want to hear all about what we did that you liked, and I'm going to do the same for you. At the end of this letter, because otherwise I'll never finish. But yeah, sleeping with you every night - literally sleeping, like you said, and waking up with you in my bed every morning - that was incredible. I want that, Chris. I know we can't have it yet, but someday - someday we'll have every night together and wake up in each other's arms every morning.

Sunday nights sounds good for a regular time to vidcomm, and most of the time I should be available. That's - the day after tomorrow, in fact, and I should be around after my shift, so I'll comm you around 2100 hours.

Yes, Chris - of course I'll be your date to the Starfleet Officers' Ball. I'm honored, truly. I'll be nervous as hell, because that kind of soiree is not my idea of a relaxing good time, but I'll try not to screw anything up too badly by insulting Admiral Archer's beagles or something. If there's anything I need to know ahead of time, for god's sake tell me, and also just stomp on my foot if I'm making an idiot of myself. I suppose this means I'll need to wear that goddamned dress uniform, too - did they set out on purpose to make those things as scratchy and uncomfortable as they possibly could? But Chris, the idea of being at a Starfleet function with you, and particularly one where you're going to be one of the guests of honor - because I have no doubt that you _will_ have command of the Exeter - the idea of everyone knowing we're together not because of the rumor mill, but because you are choosing to make that statement publicly - well, it makes me feel ridiculously happy, just so you know.

As for your p.t., I've checked all your med records and I've spoken with your team. Chris, you're right on track to be medically cleared. Your expectations of yourself are too high. You don't need to be in the shape you were in before the injuries in order to pass the physical. You'll get there, but it doesn't need to be all at once. Yeah, you've hit a bit of a plateau, but if you'll recall, I expected that, and accounted for it, in your treatment plan. I'll check you out myself when I'm there, but from everything I can tell, Chris, your recovery has been nothing short of miraculous, due mostly to your own incredible strength of will (or, to put it another way, your goddamned mule-headedness).

All right, first the uncomfortable part and then onto the good stuff. Am I attracted to Jim? I guess I'd have to say yes and no, but mostly no. Let me explain, before you get upset. He's a good-looking man. I'd have to be blind not to notice that. (He's also, by the way, entirely straight, apart from a very brief experimentation phase during the Academy - which, in case you're wondering, did _not_ include any experimentation with me.) But Chris - in many ways he's also a child, and in many ways he's a train wreck. He's starting to grow up some - I think his command responsibilities are helping with that. As I said before, he needs me, and I need him - in a different, and in some sense deeper way than as lovers. He needs to know he can always rely on me, and vice versa, and anything sexual would only complicate that and undermine it. Maybe some people can keep sex entirely separate from romance and have it not affect a friendship, but I'm not one of them. So maybe there was a moment, back when we first met, that things could have gone in a different direction - if he weren't terminally straight, if I'd been willing to risk my heart at that point - but he is, I wasn't, and they didn't. That moment is gone now, completely and totally. And Chris, I wouldn't want it to be any different. I'm not going to lie and say that I love him like a brother - it's more complicated than that, and I think you know it. But I don't love him in a romantic way, or a sexual way. In other words, I don't love him the way I love you. It's not more or less, it's just different. I feel like I'm doing a shitty job of explaining this. I hope you know what I'm trying to say here. Let me just add that Jim - as much as I love him, I'd never say that I'm _his_ , because I'm not. But Chris, I'm _yours_ , in every possible sense of the word. Jim needs me right now, and I'm not going to let him down. But if I have my way, Chris - you're my future. You're the one I'm going to grow old with, and between now and then I'm going to grab every moment I can with you. Does that help at all?

All right, onto the good stuff, and damn, Chris, there was a lot of it during your visit. Right now what I'm remembering most times when I jerk off is how we made love in that huge bathtub in your guest quarters. I've never had sex in water before, but I really want to do it again. Somehow the water heightened the sensations - I don't know why, really, but every time you so much as brushed against my skin, my entire body shuddered. And when I pushed into you, I remember that you felt even hotter than the water, and so tight around me... We fucked so slowly, just barely rippling the water with our movements as we kissed and touched. It was so incredibly intimate. I can't even really describe it, but Chris, I felt - I don't know, I felt _known_ in a way I've never been known before, and I felt like I knew you too, saw things about you that you don't show to anyone else. Am I wrong? God, I hope not, because it was unbelievable.

All right, on that note, I'm going to sign off, fuck my hand and pretend I'm fucking you, and then fall asleep and dream of you. I'll talk to you on Sunday. Not sure if you knew this, but that's my birthday. It'll be a nice birthday present to get to see you.

All my love,  
Len

  
To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

Don't worry, I think I outgrew my fascination with snakes a long time ago. And after having that centaurian slug in me, I'm not really looking to have any kind of creature even remotely close to that near me.

My parents, well, I guess I'm fairly close to them. I'm very close to my grandmother. She's a spitfire. Her name is Kathleen. She was born in what used to be Newfoundland and Labrador, now part of Greenland. She was married to my grandfather, Lewis, for 73 years. Pretty amazing. My parents are Josh and Willa. I didn't tell you the complete truth before. Yes, my father is a diplomat, but before that, he was a Starfleet Admiral. He was not happy that I joined Starfleet, as he was unhappy with the politics, which is why after he had thirty-five years in, he left for the Federation Diplomatic Corps. While he is technically retired, he still occasionally works for them, much to my mother's dismay. We were estranged for quite awhile, my father and I, but we have a pretty good relationship now. He was very strict growing up, one reason why I left when I turned seventeen.

I really didn't spend that much time off world. Of course my father was gone a lot, but since his specialty was diplomacy, he mostly just traveled to planets we already had treaties with, basically as a glorified ass kisser to keep new federations planets happy. I did travel off world during summer breaks at times with my mother, if he was somewhere safe for an extended period. Otherwise, it was my mom and her parents out at the homestead. My father's parents, who were researchers, died in an accident at Starbase V when I was four, so I never really knew them.

As far as my music, well, I mostly play guitar, both electric and acoustic. I can fudge my way around a keyboard enough to do a bit of composing. Not a lot of time for that anymore. I haven't picked up my guitar in years now. The last time was probably about four years ago when the guys and I got together for old times' sake. I'd be glad to play something for you though, as long as you don't mind that I'm probably rusty as hell.

Fishing huh? I can't say that I have done a lot of fishing, especially growing up in the desert. All we had nearby was the old air force base, that they use for building warp cores now. Admiral Archer will put some lines out when we go out on his boat, but that's about it. I think it would be something I would enjoy though. You'll have to teach me.

As far as the stuff with Jim, I think I need some more time before we discuss that further. I'm working with an actual couples counselor, that's who Dr. Rossen referred me to. I'm trying to work through my issues. I told you I was serious about making this work, Len. Maybe we can talk more about it during our vidcomm, but since it's your birthday, it's probably not the best subject to bring up. Thank you for everything you said in your last letter though. I don't want you to think it didn't help, because in some ways it did, in other ways, it kind of made things worse. I _will_ work through it though.

I don't want you to worry though. So please don't read what I just wrote and get all paranoid. God, I love being with you, Len. That time in the bathtub; well it was the single most intimate erotic encounter of my life. That's how I'd describe it. I felt the same way, kissing you, breathing you in as you slid in and out of me. I never, well to be a sappy old fool, felt more complete in my life, Len. _You_ make me feel like that. And I'm just trying to deal with my irrational jealousy the only way I know how right now. Just know that I love you, and I'll talk about it when I've figured it out myself.

Thank you for your encouragement about the p.t. and my command. Hearing you tell me I'm right on schedule, even if it isn't where _I_ want to be, does make me feel better. I just don't know what I'd do if I don't go out on the Exeter, so that's been weighing on my mind a lot. I'm also having some nerve problems in lower back, which was causing the spasms I'd been having. I'm working with a Chinese healer though, being treated with acupuncture, and it's helped immensely. You aren't the only one who prefers old-fashioned medicine sometimes.

I'm tired. It's been a long week. So I'm going to sign off. I'm looking forward to talking to you, seeing you tomorrow.

Love you,  
Chris

  



	8. Why the Sea Is Boiling Hot (Part 8 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike. With more interjections from Jim Kirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) (the loud one): SHE MADE ME DO THE CLIFFHANGER. From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/)**mga1999** (the quiet one): SHE MADE ME WRITE PORN!

_**Trek Fic: Why the Sea Is Boiling Hot**_  
 **Title:** Why the Sea Is Boiling Hot (Part 8 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17.  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** Light bdsm (I know, I know, you're SHOCKED).  
 **Word Count:** around 5000  
 **Summary:** The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike. With more interjections from Jim Kirk.  
 **Authors' Notes:** From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) (the loud one): SHE MADE ME DO THE CLIFFHANGER. From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) (the quiet one): SHE MADE ME WRITE PORN!

  


To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

First of all, thanks for the vidcomm on Sunday. That was the best birthday I've had in... well, a long time. I don't even mean the sex, although that was mind-blowing, as always. Just talking with you, though, having you wish me a happy birthday and telling me that you love me, that's the best present I could have hoped for. Good lord, sorry for the sappiness. I'm going to be on earth for your birthday this year, I think - October 25, right? I'd like to do something special for you. Let me know if you've got any particular birthday wishes that I can fulfill for you.

I want to respect your request not to talk about the whole situation with Jim until you're ready. So I'll try not to raise that. The only thing I will say, though, is something I mentioned earlier - Jim's hurting. He won't talk to me about it, brushes it off when I try to raise it, the way he always does when something's really wrong. In some ways, I think you were his idol, his perfect idealized fantasy of what a father should be, and to have that shattered, to find out that you're human after all - it's tough for him. I understand that you're not ready to write to him yet. I won't push that. I've been trying to get _him_ to write to _you_ , but he can be nearly as stubborn as we are when he wants to be. If he does write to you, though, just - be as gentle with him as you can, all right? I know you're jealous of him. I get why. He took your ship right out from under you, and he's got some kind of weird prior claim on your lover as well. You've gotta know, though, he's not trying to hurt you. He never would, no matter what ridiculous threats he might make in the heat of the moment. Okay, dropping the subject now.

If your dad hates Starfleet politics, sounds like we've got something in common. Of course, since he left Starfleet to become a diplomat, maybe not. You mentioned you were estranged from him for a while - I'm not going to push you, because god knows I'm the last one who can point fingers about daddy issues, but I'm sensing there's a story there, and if you ever want to talk about it, you know I'll be glad to listen, and I can promise you I won't judge. As I said, I've got no room to throw stones on that issue myself.

What's your mother like? Is she a spitfire like her own mama? That so often seems to be the way. Your grandmother sounds like an amazing person too. 73 years married - that's quite a feat. I admire that. I've got to admit, that's what I've always wanted for myself - to meet the person who I'd never get tired of, who would never get tired of me, who might even still love me a little after 73 years together. I hope I've found that person, Chris. I hope you feel the same way.

I definitely want you to play something for me on the guitar next time I'm earthside. I've got this incredible mental image of you with a guitar in your hands, those long, strong fingers of yours moving over the strings... Okay, I'm getting myself all worked up now.

I'd love to take you fishing sometime. Maybe when we go back to Georgia together. I'd like to try saltwater fishing from a sailboat as well, although from what I know it's a very different proposition than standing knee deep in a slow-moving Georgia stream with a fishing pole.

I know you've been worried about your progress with p.t., so I've been keeping a closer eye on it than usual. Seems like you've broken through that plateau - I saw some amazing progress in the last couple med reports I've seen. Your mile time is getting better and better. Are you feeling a bit more confident now? It's good that the acupuncture is helping. After all these centuries, we still don't quite know how or why it works, only that it does. I'm a man of science, so I'm not sure I understand or believe in chi energy or whatever the hell they call it, but I can't argue with the results - hundreds of rigorous scientific studies support it. So if it's working for you, by all means, stick with it.

You're seeing a couples counselor, and without me, huh? I'm not sure if I should be amused or offended. Chris, I get that you feel like your jealousy is your problem, and yours to work out alone. Maybe you're even right. But I can't help feeling that, since it affects both of us, it's _our_ problem, and I want to help in whatever way I can. I don't want you to feel like you're alone in this. So if I can help, or if you want me to vidcomm into any of your sessions with the couples counselor, let me know, all right?

So now let me end with a memory - a really goddamned good one - of your time here on the Enterprise. I've never really been much into bondage - a few experiments, but nothing that I thought was especially great. But with you, Chris - the way you make me feel when you've got me tied up for you... I don't know if it was particularly intense because of what you were feeling at the time, some of the jealousy bleeding through, but damn. If jealousy leads to sex _that_ amazing, then it can't be all bad. Your self-control is incredible, the way you held us both on the edge for so long. I couldn't have done it if the situation had been reversed. Fuck, Chris, the amount of time you spent just on my nipples, and the way you blurred pleasure and pain like that. I really think if you'd kept it up, I would have come from that alone. Never thought it would be so incredible to be completely at someone else's mercy. But it is, Chris - at least when it's someone that I love and trust the way I do you. Judging from how hard you came, I'm guessing you enjoyed it too. We'll have to do it again when I'm there in October. I spend way more time than I probably should, imagining the things you're going to do to me when you've got me bound to your bed.

Well, I guess I'll sign off now. I hope you're getting plenty of rest because good god, Chris, you are going to need all your stamina when I get my hands on you again. I'll talk to you this Sunday.

Love you,  
Len

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)

Admiral Pike,

Bones has been on me to write to you, so I'm doing it. But for the record, I'm only doing it for _him_. I couldn't care less about your sorry ass.

I'm not even sure what I'm supposed to be writing. Bones seems to think I'm all hurt over your insane jealousy of how close Bones and I are. Which, by the way, is ridiculous. First of all, Bones would _never, ever_ cheat on anyone. He is absolutely the most moral person I know. And despite what you may think of _me_ , I would have never done that to you either, _sir_.

There is _nothing_ sexual between us. Never has been. Never will be. As he already told you, I don't swing that way, and there is no fucking way I would _ever_ risk what Bones and I have by screwing it up with sex. He means more to me than that. And if that makes you uncomfortable, too bad. It's _your_ problem. Not mine. Not Bones'.

Honestly, I want to just tell you to get over yourself. I'm tired of seeing Bones upset. Do you have _any_ idea how heavily this is weighing on him? No, you don't, because you don't see him after he gets your comms. You don't see him staring off into space wondering what the fuck to do. You didn't see how hurt he was each time you were all pissy on the Enterprise at something.

Yes, we love each other. So fucking what! Just because Bones loves _you_ he's not allowed to love and care for anyone else? That's bullshit, and you know it. If you're just hiding behind _me_ as an excuse or reason to walk away down the road -- Well, I never once thought of you as a coward, but I'm really starting to rethink that.

He loves you, Chris. He really does. And despite all this crap, you make him happy. Happier than I've ever seen him, and I _want_ him to be happy. He's been through so much shit in his life, and he deserves to be happy. I have supported your relationship from the beginning. I have _tried_ to be sympathetic to you, but seriously, man, I'm way past that.

And if you think for one minute, he's going to walk off this ship -- walk away from me -- anytime soon, I have news for you -- He's NOT. He may love you, Chris, but _he's_ not ready to do that. He needs me as much as I need him. In fact, I already _told_ him he could request a transfer, go back to Earth. So next time you are so fucking insecure and thinking I'm going to steal your boyfriend, think about _that_.

I love him enough to let him go so he can be happy. What have _you_ done for him?

Kirk

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

First off, let's get this out of the way. I'm sure you already know that Jim wrote to me. No, I haven't written him back yet. Frankly, I'm not sure how to respond when I basically got my ass handed to me by someone half my age. Jim Kirk may still be immature in some ways, but where it matters, I think he's actually wiser than all of us.

Having said that, I've been doing a lot of thinking. And before you start panicking; I love you, I'm not breaking up with you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Leonard McCoy. Is that clear? Good.

Now, I don't know if you read the letter Jim sent me or not. I'm assuming no, or I probably would have heard about the Enterprise's CMO throwing the ship's captain out the airlock. But everything he said in his letter was absolutely and completely correct. I need to get over myself. Quickly. I can use every excuse in the book for my behavior, but the bottom line is, this is _my_ problem. Neither you nor Jim have done anything to warrant me acting the way I have. I knew, before I even started this relationship with you, how close the two of you were. Maybe not as much as I know now, but I knew what I was getting myself into.

I'm not going to lie. Before the Narada, this probably wouldn't have bothered me half as much as now. I still feel like a different person, even though I'm mostly back on my feet. The PTSD and losing feeling below my waist really took a lot of my self confidence away. I have found myself questioning things not just with us, Len, but in every part of my life. Hell, I've been wondering if I even have what it takes to command a starship again.

The good news is, after talking to Dr. Rossen about all of this, I know that _some_ of this is likely due to the PTSD and even possibly the effects of the slug's secretions. As you know, it took _months_ for all trace of the fluid to clear from my system. The spinal tap they took six months after still showed some trace, as did the one at one year. And Len, I am not using any of this an excuse, just an explanation. I told you, I've never been jealous like this before. I've never been this insecure before. Granted, I've never loved anyone like this before, so it's hard to tell whether it's medical, psychological, or just the fact that I'm so in love with you. Dr. Rossen thinks it's probably a combination of all three.

None of these reasons are an excuse for how I've behaved though. One thing that Jim said to me that really hit me hard was how heavily this was all weighing on you. I've been so caught up in _my_ feelings -- I haven't looked at the crystal in weeks. Probably some part of me didn't want to know what I was doing to you. I just pulled it out of my drawer and it's a dull dingy gray. God, Len. I'm sorry. I'm just so sorry.

What it comes down to is trust, Len. And I honestly don't know _why_ I haven't been able to let myself completely do that. The couples counselor, Laura Elliott, says it has a lot to do with my wife cheating on me. I told you I wasn't that broken up over it, but in some ways I was. Not so much for the cheating, but for taking away my future: the kids we were supposed to have, growing old with someone. I never really mourned for that, I guess. And it wasn't the first time someone was unfaithful to me. So I'm working on that with her. And yes, I get that since we're together it's 'our' problem, but I still see it as _my_ issue. You've already gone above and beyond trying to make me feel more secure. The bottom line is, I'm the only one that can do that. And I will. I promise.

Enough about that now. Back to _your_ letter. You have no idea the thoughts I have had about being with you in Georgia. I've been to Atlanta before. I know how humid those summers can get. And let's just say I've gotten off a couple times thinking of being there with you, all sweaty and hot and our bodies sliding together... Fuck, Len. First shore leave we manage to line up together during the summer, please take me there. I want to see where you grew up. You've alluded to the fact that there are some memories there that are hard to face. I'd be honored to help you face them when you're ready.

Now about my father. First off, I should explain that he was nearly forty when I was born. He married my mother, who was all of twenty-two. I was born ten months after they married. My father went to university before joining Starfleet. He majored in political science and completed his law degree at Starfleet. He didn't want any more kids, so that was that. Like I said, he was very strict. He'd already been in Starfleet almost twenty years when I was born, and he and my mom already lived on the ranch in Mojave, so we never really lived in the bay area. When he wasn't off-world, he'd beam home for dinner every day. He expected a lot of me, and from the time I can remember, dinner conversations consisted of him telling my mother all the mistakes Starfleet was making with limiting the expansion of the federation and how wrong it was to only help races who could help us. And of course he was right in a way. So he definitely did not want me to join Starfleet -- he wanted me to go to university first and then thought it would be a good idea for me to join the universal peace corps after that for awhile to go out and do some good in the universe. So when I joined Starfleet immediately after high school, let's just say that we didn't talk for several years. He left Starfleet about the time I joined and went off to the diplomatic corps.

My mother however, was always supportive of whatever made me happy. And honestly, other than playing in a band, I really can't imagine myself doing anything else. And my mom? No, she actually isn't a spitfire like my grandmother. Quite the opposite, actually. Quiet, petite, but you shouldn't let that fool you. She had no problem putting my father in his place when needed. She's an artist. When you come to my ranch, you'll see her art everywhere. She's quite successful and actually has a gallery in Santa Fe, NM. My parents have a winter home there they use when they are earthside. I'll have to take you there sometime too. It's really beautiful.

Now, onto the good stuff. I'm so glad you like me tying you up. It's not something I want to do _all_ the time, but God, I loved you begging me to let you come. You were so damn beautiful, and the look on your face when you finally came? Jesus. That night has gone through my head while I'm jerking off more times than I want to admit.

I'll be glad to tie you up again. I should have enough control by then to do what I've been fantasizing about since that first time we made out on the couch. You want me to tell you about that? Well here it goes.

I'm going to blindfold you and bind your hands together in front of you. You're going to get on your knees, leaning on your elbows on my bed. I'm gonna rub that strawberry oil all over your body while your ass is up in the air. I'm going to rub your nipples until you are gasping, until you are so hard that you are about to come. And then I'm going to lick your back, all over while I'm on my knees behind you, working my way down to your ass. And then I'm going to lick your ass, Len, and loosen your hole up with my tongue before I stick my fingers in you to get you ready for me. And then I'm going to slide into you and fuck you so hard that you won't be able to move after.

God Len, I'm coming...

Fuck. God. I just came so hard thinking of you. Just thinking about your ass all up in the air and me pounding into you. And when I'm done, I'm gonna roll you onto your back, leaving your hands tied and the blindfold on, and I'm gonna swallow your cock down, just like you like it, and suck you until you're about to come, but I'm not going to let you. I'm going to kiss you then. Kiss you until you are breathless and begging to come. And when I'm hard again, I'm going to tie your hands to the headboard, and put your legs on my shoulders, and I'm going to slide in and out of you, so slowly, listening to your breath hitch with every thrust, watching you slowly come undone. And when I'm ready to come again, I'll wrap my hand around your cock, and we'll come together.

Be ready for that.

Yours forever,  
Chris

To: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Jim,

I think blinking cursors should be banned, for I have been having a battle with one for the better part of an hour. I don't consider any of these words victory though. I think the cursor has handed me my ass too, though not quite as well as you did.

You're right. You are one hundred percent right. Everything you said. And some I'm sure you didn't say, because I _know_ you probably held back for Len's sake. I would thank you for that, but you probably should have just let it all out. It might have helped you feel better.

Len says you've destroyed four punching bags in the gym since my trip to the Enterprise. If it would help, when you are dirtside in October, you can have a free shot at me since I'm sure you're projecting a holo of me on the bags. And I deserve it. I only ask that you wait until _after_ the Officer's Ball. I really don't want a black eye when Len escorts me. That wouldn't exactly be fair to him, now would it?  
Nothing I can say or do right now can even begin to fix things with you. I know that. I know the only thing I can do is show you, by my actions, that I'm sorry.

I hope in time, you can forgive me. And that I can earn your respect and your love again. Despite appearances, I love you, Jim. I've never had children, and I don't know if that is in the cards for me and Len, but I couldn't be prouder than if you were my own son. And it's about time I start acting like that instead of being jealous -- yes, I'm admitting that -- of you for having everything I want. I'm the only one standing in the way of my own happiness. Not you. Not Len. Just me.

I officially passed my medical certification today for command of the Exeter. I want to believe that getting a ship back, getting back some semblance of the life I thought was gone, will help. But if it doesn't, I don't want things between me and Len to mess up what we were building at the Academy. I want you to trust me again. I want you to be able to come to me when you need _anything_. I would love to be a mentor to you the way I was at the Academy. And I miss our chess games. I would love to resume playing with you again, _when_ you're ready.

I hope you will give me this chance. But I know I have to earn it.

Take care of yourself, son,  
Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)

Pike,

Forgive me for not drinking the kool aid. Prove it.

Kirk out

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

Yeah, Jim can be surprisingly insightful sometimes. Occasionally. Once in a blue moon. I know you've written to him now. Jim didn't share what you said. Honestly, I think I'd rather not know. Things between the three of us are tangled enough without me getting involved in whatever's going on between the two of you. I just hope you iron it out, because I want you both to be happy. He does seem a little less tense, though, which I'm grateful for. _I'm_ supposed to be the one on a hair-trigger, not Jim, and it was making everyone a little nervous to have him be so irritable.

He said something to you about this weighing on me? Goddammit, I asked Jim to write to you so you two could work out things between _you two_ , not so he could lay a guilt trip on you about me. Don't worry about me. As long as you're not giving up, as long as you're fighting for us, I'll be fine. I have to say, Chris, it scares me a little bit how much I've come to rely on having you in my life. I need you, and I swore to myself after the divorce that I'd never let myself need anyone that way again. I can't help it with you, though. It's just something about you - you get past all my defenses. So just... be careful with me, all right? And now I feel pathetic, so I'm going to move on.

It makes complete sense that the PTSD and the centaurian slug's secretions affected your mental state. I'm kicking myself that I didn't realize that myself. I suppose this is why it's not a good idea to get romantically involved with a patient - you get too close to the situation and you lose your objectivity and rationality. I'm sorry, Chris. That's my fault. Not that I'm willing to give you up, either as my lover or as my patient, but it's probably a good thing that I'm not your primary treating physician. And on that subject, I saw the med report clearing you for command of the Exeter. I hope you know how happy I am for you, Chris. I'll admit that selfishly, it'll be hard to know you won't be dirtside when the Enterprise goes back to earth, but you belong out there in the black. And right now, the federation needs its very best people out there, protecting all of us, and there's no one better than you to be out there keeping us safe.

You want to go to Georgia with me this summer? Hell, I thought I'd have longer before I had to contemplate facing all those memories, but really, the longer I put it off the harder it's going to be, so it's probably better to get it over with. At least I'll have you there with me. The place is probably a mess - I haven't had anyone there to do any upkeep. But yeah, all right, we'll go together. And I really do need to tell you about that thing in my past I referred to before, the one involving my daddy, so when I'm earthside in October I'll get good and drunk and tell you about it.

So your father's almost twenty years older than your mother, huh? I see that cradle robbing runs in the family. I'm _kidding_ , Chris. I can just see your mouth tightening up and that little line forming between your eyebrows. So just imagine me rolling my eyes at you in return, all right?

Your parents both sound like very strong people. They'd have to be, to have produced a son as strong as you. I'd love to see your mama's art. Where do your musical inclinations come from? Are either of your parents musical? I have to say, Chris, I can't quite imagine you in the universal peace corps. I think you were right to listen to your own gut and join Starfleet. I'm damn glad you did, or we'd never have met.

Shit, Chris, how in god's name do you get me so completely worked up with just a few words? In the three days since I got this comm, I've jerked off to it five times already. And after I finish this, I'm going for number six. I agree with you that the bondage thing isn't something I want to do all the time, but damn, I am _really_ looking forward to you doing the things you talked about in your comm. So let me tell you something that I'd like to do for you.

Chris, I've told you that you can do unbelievable things with your mouth. And I know you like it when I use my mouth on you too. Hell, I've seen the way you look at my mouth at random moments - if I'm eating, or talking, or chewing on a stylus. I know I'm not as good at giving head as you are, but Chris - I'm going to learn. If it takes hours and hours of practice, then that's what I'll do. I want to lick you and suck you, use my tongue on your balls and on your asshole, and figure out what you like best, what makes you gasp and moan. And I want you to teach me some of your tricks, and god, Chris, I really want to work on overcoming my gag reflex so I can deep-throat you the way you do to me. And when I've gotten good at that, I want to get on my knees in front of you, then have you thread your fingers into my hair and fuck my mouth. I want you to just take me, use me to please yourself, and then come down my throat or all over my face, or anything else you want.

You never did answer my question about what I could do for you for your birthday. Any particular wishes or fantasies I can fulfill? I'd really like to do something special for you, darlin'.

Dammit, how long until we're earthside? Too damn long, anyway. I'll talk to you on Sunday, at least. Those vidcomms give me something to look forward to all week long.

Take care of yourself. I love you.

Yours always,  
Len

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)

Pike,

Bones isn't going to be able to make the vidcomm tonight. He got some news from home today that has kind of -- well, he's a bit drunk right now. Nothing to worry about, I promise. He just needs to sleep it off. I'll have him comm you tomorrow and explain.

Jim

  



	9. The Middle of the Night (Part 9 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike. The weeks leading up to Space Prom! (Okay, FINE, the "Starfleet Officers' Ball," but seriously, doesn't Space Prom sound more fun?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) (the loud one): You may have noticed that I usually post updates to my LJ at least a few hours, if not a day or so, earlier than I post to the comms. So consider that incentive to watch this spot if you want updates right away! ;) From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/)**mga1999** (the quiet one): Yes, she tries to give me time to go hide in the closet.

_**Trek Fic: The Middle of the Night (Pike/McCoy, NC-17)**_  
 **Title:** The Middle of the Night (Part 9 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17. ish.  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** around 5500  
 **Summary:** The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike. The weeks leading up to Space Prom! (Okay, FINE, the "Starfleet Officers' Ball," but seriously, doesn't Space Prom sound more fun?)  
 **Authors' Notes:** From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) (the loud one): You may have noticed that I usually post updates to my LJ at least a few hours, if not a day or so, earlier than I post to the comms. So consider that incentive to watch this spot if you want updates right away! ;) From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) (the quiet one): Yes, she tries to give me time to go hide in the closet.

  


To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

God damn, I've got the hangover from hell. Been a long time since I've been that drunk. I'm really sorry I missed our vidcomm. That was an asinine thing to do, especially when that's the one part of my week that's actually always good.

The long and short of it is that I got a comm from Jocelyn yesterday. She's getting married, to the guy she cheated on me with. The one who I thought was my friend for six years, only to find out he'd been screwing my wife for three of them. His name's Clay, curse his soul to hell.

They had the almighty gall to invite me to the wedding, if you can believe that. It's going to be a Christmas wedding - how goddamned charming. Come to think of it, maybe I _should_ go, and bring you with me. You're ten times the man Clay is, so she can take a good look at my new lover and just eat her heart out.

Anyway, I don't want you to worry - it's not like I have any feelings for Jocelyn anymore, unless you count bitterness and disgust. It just brought up some ugly memories, I guess, and I broke out the bourbon, and before I knew it I was drooling on the floor and Jim was trying to get me to tell him how many fingers he was holding up.

So again, I'm sorry I missed our vidcomm. I'd really like to try again, though, and not wait until next week, if that's all right with you. I'll try to vidcomm you around 2100 this evening. If you're busy or out, that's all right, I'll just leave you a message. Otherwise, if you're in, I'd love to see your face. Remind myself that I've got someone who cares, that I'm not the pathetic loser I was when she dumped me for my so-called friend.

I hope you're well. I love you, Chris.

Yours,  
Len

p.s. At least I won't have the goddamn alimony payment anymore. Thank heaven for small favors, right?

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

I can't make a vidcomm at 2100 tonight. I am interviewing candidates for the chief engineer spot on the Exeter all day today up until 2200. Yes, that many to pore through. I probably won't be home until after midnight. I'm sorry.

I'm sorry about the news from your ex. I wish I had time to write more, but I'm already late for p.t. and then the interviews start right after. I'll try to write at lunch if I have time.

Quit making yourself suffer and take a hypospray for the hangover. Just because you were an idiot, doesn't mean you should suffer.

Gotta run. I love you.

Chris

p.s. I just realized that I forgot to say something last month around September 20th. I'm so sorry, Len. I feel terrible that I forgot. I'm not going to make excuses, and I swear I'll be a better partner next year.

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

Trying to answer your last comm while I'm sitting here eating lunch. Not entirely happy with the candidates I've seen so far this morning. Hopefully this afternoon will be better. I will probably be comming the Enterprise tomorrow morning to talk with Mr. Scott for his opinions after I pare the list down. I was originally hoping to steal my old chief from the Yorktown, but he's decided to retire. Can't say that I blame him after the Narada incident. He's been in forty years, and he almost decided to take a posting on the Farragut.

I hope you know, if you want or _need_ to talk about the Jocelyn situation more, I'm here. I know and suspect there was more to your divorce than just losing the baby. If you want to talk about it -- just don't think you can't. If it were at all possible, I would have loved to accompany you to the wedding, but considering we'll both be in deep space on opposite sides of the galaxy in December, it's unlikely.

As far as Jim is concerned, don't be hard on the kid for his honesty. Every single thing he said in his comm was true. And for things to be okay between Jim and I, he's going to have to _know_ that I'm doing right by you. And that's going to take time for him to see. I have things to prove to him, and I have every intention of doing so. It's all connected whether we like it or not. It's kind of hard getting my head out of my ass, but I'm working on it.

Just so you know, a year or two ago, I wouldn't have bothered finding time to write you like this. I would have just let it go until everything was done. You're _that_ important to me. And I know I can't keep making the same mistakes from my past, and that I've made since we started seeing each other. Not that I'm not going to make them, because I know I am. I just want you to understand that I'm _trying_ to make you equally as important as what I'm doing right now.

I've got a comm coming through right now for an interview, but I'm going to go ahead and send this in case I get too busy later. I'll write you before I go to sleep.

Love you,  
Chris

p.s. Forgot to mention the crystal. I saw you jerking off at least four of those six times after my comm. I joined you on two of them.

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

God I'm tired. I didn't finish the interviews until almost 0100. I cancelled my p.t. this morning so I can sleep in, but I wanted to finish this so I can sleep soundly. Have about four candidates I'm looking at. I'll have Mr. Scott see if you are available after I'm done and maybe we can talk for a few minutes.

I probably shouldn't be getting into this right now since I'm so tired, so here goes nothing. Len, I don't think you realize what you have brought to my life. You are better at articulating your feelings than I am. It's hard for me to come out and say that I need someone. _Anyone_. But I do need you, Len. As much as if not more than you need me. I'm sorry if other than sexually, I haven't made you feel that way enough. I'm as deep in this as you are, probably deeper. I've never been in love like this before. Never felt it _so_ much. I had pretty much given up on ever having anything like we have. And I am going to be all cliché-filled here and say it's all-encompassing to the point that I keep waiting to wake up and find out it's all a dream. Right now I am imagining you with that sappy smile after reading this. God, your smile is so gorgeous, Len. And I plan on doing everything I can to make you smile more often, okay, honey?

Now, back to my father. Yes, my father will be ninety-three next year. He barely looks a day over seventy though, and still runs a couple of miles everyday. I also should have told you that my mother was his second marriage. He was married to a man, for almost twenty years. They divorced, and he met and married my mom a year later. He never really talked about that much; heck, I didn't even know until I was in secondary school. I get the impression from my mother that he and his husband were young and in love and both married against their parents' wishes. And it just ran its course. They were apart most of the time, and I got the feeling that the last ten years of the marriage was a convenience thing.

I have no idea where I get my musicality from. I've never seen any of my family do anything music-related. And I certainly didn't inherit any of my mother's artistic ability unless you consider badly drawn stick figures art. So besides fishing, what else do you like to do? I know you mentioned having horses and riding when I was on the Enterprise. There has to be _something_ little Lenny McCoy did besides practice being a doctor on everything.

As far as my birthday -- Well, here's another cliché filled request -- I want to simply spend the day with you. I want to sleep in and wake up with you in my arms. I want to feel your mouth on my cock, and then have you inside me. Then we can wander out and eat lunch at the old pier. I want to walk along the beach barefoot, feeling the earth we'll be leaving behind between my toes, holding your hand. I want to sit in the sand and kiss you, and run my fingers through your hair. And then I want to spend the rest of the day in my bed making love with each other, drowsing, and eating Chinese takeout for dinner. I just want to be with you on my birthday, because I doubt we'll be able to spend it together next year or possibly the next five.

I've been slowly stroking myself as I write this, reading what you want to do with your mouth. And Len, you have nothing to -- well, sure I can teach you things if you want -- but believe me, I am _completely_ satisfied with your mouth. And I'm not just saying that. Of course if you want to practice your skills, feel free, if you must. Fuck, it would be so incredibly hot to fuck your mouth like that -- when you're ready. Until then, I will still dream of what your mouth already does to me.

Gonna sign off now so I can go finish jerking off in bed and get some sleep. I hope to see your gorgeous face on vidcomm tomorrow.

All my love,  
Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

I can tell how stressed out and frazzled you are by the launch preparations, from your letters and from seeing your face during our vidcomm. I won't tell you to take it easy, because I know you can't, but just take care of yourself, all right? Make sure you're eating, make sure you're getting at least some sleep. All right, I'll stop mother-henning now. It was good to talk to you, even if only for a few minutes.

As a rule, I don't take hangover hyposprays. If you take away all the negative consequences of an action, what's to stop you from doing the same damn fool thing over and over? That's what I tell Jim when he begs me for one, and I'm not so much of a hypocrite that I'd withhold it from him and give it to myself. Besides, a little suffering's good for the soul, or so my grandmother used to say.

I hope Scotty gave you some good input on your choices for chief engineer. He's one crazy bastard, but Jim swears he's a goddamned genius, and he does seem to consistently pull miracles out of his ass, so I guess he knows what he's talking about. I hope so, anyway, since all of our lives are in his hands. Jesus, that's a frightening thought. By the way, has Boyce agreed to serve as your CMO? I'll feel better if he has - that way I know you'll be in good hands. I won't lie, I'll probably get a bit jealous, knowing that he's the one seeing to your health, especially now that I know you two were lovers, but I do trust you, Chris, and I'd rather it be him taking care of you than anyone else but me.

Thanks for the offer to talk about Jocelyn. I probably will, at some point. Yeah, there was more to it than losing the baby, and than her cheating on me with Clay. Some of it was my fault - hell, a lot of it was. I'm not really ready to go excavating all of it yet, but when I am, I'll take you up on your offer. I appreciate it, Chris. And the same goes for you - if there's anything in your past, or anything about your marriage, that you need to talk about, I'm here.

The things you said about us, and how you feel about me... thanks for that, Chris. It really is kind of pathetic how much that reassurance helps me, but it does. I do the same thing with expecting that any moment I'm going to wake up and find it's all been a dream, that I'm back to being the bitter, lonely asshole that I was after the divorce. Well, I suppose most of the crew would still say I'm a bitter asshole, but at least I'm not lonely anymore, right?

It doesn't surprise me at all that your father's still fit as a fiddle at his age. I'm sure you will be too. Hell, you'll probably be making me take those morning runs with you when you're 93, and I'm damn sure that you'll be in better shape than me. So it seems that for your father, the second time was the charm when it came to marriage, huh? Hope that'll be the case for you and me, too. This is really none of my business, and just tell me to butt out if you want, but I was wondering - have you told your parents about us yet?

All right, to answer your question about things that I like to do, or that I liked to do as a kid, besides pretending to be a doctor. Well first of all, it might surprise you to know that for most of my childhood, I wanted to be a veterinarian like my mama, not a doctor at all. I've never had an easy time getting along with people - frankly, I think most of 'em are ignorant, selfish, or worse. Animals, though - I've always loved animals, loved being around them. Animals won't ever try to screw you over. They might bite you out of fear, but they won't pretend to like you and then stab you in the back. So as a kid, I spent a lot of time around the animals we had on the property - riding the horses, like I told you, and taking care of the chickens, goats, pigs, alpacas, rabbits, and whatever other strays my mama had taken in. Plus I'd wander the woods, look for animal tracks, see how many I could identify. I'd catch frogs and try to make friends with 'em - you can guess how successful that was. I used to just ramble all over our acreage for hours and hours on end. Sometimes during the summer, I'd put some supplies in my backpack and head out and camp for a few days. I used to love sleeping under the stars, hiking, or just sitting by a stream daydreaming.

I used to love reading - I'd almost always have a PADD on me, with Mark Twain or Jules Verne or Madeleine L'Engle. Haven't done much reading for pleasure in years - always medical journals to keep up on whenever I've got any down time.

So what about you? Besides playing guitar and wrangling snakes, what did you like to do as a kid? What do you like to do on your down time now?

God, Chris, the day you describe for your birthday - that sounds like paradise. Of course we can do all that. And while I'm glad to hear that you're satisfied with what I can do with my mouth now, I still want to learn to do more. So you'll just have to suffer through all of my practicing. It's a hardship, I know.

Damn, it's hot that you've seen me jerking off, and that you've been joining me. If we ever make it back to Uxtaxia, I'm going to get another crystal and imprint it on you so I can see what you're up to. Come to think of it, you may make it out there before we do, so if you do, get one for me, all right?

I keep thinking of the Officers' Ball, how goddamn good you're going to look, lean and fit in your dress uniform, and how damn proud I'm going to be to be there with you, everyone knowing that we're lovers. I'm going to dance with you, Chris, and I'm going to let my hands linger on your body, and I'm probably even going to steal a couple of kisses. Tell me now if that's not all right, because I want to lay claim to you in front of everybody there. I want them all to know that Admiral Pike, the commander of the Exeter, belongs to me, and they'd better keep their hands to themselves. And I want your crew to know that they'd better keep you in one piece, or they will be facing my wrath.

Oh, and I want to make those vids you were talking about, so I've got something to keep me company during my jerkoff sessions when we're both out in the black. I want to see what it looks like when you're making love to me, driving me crazy with your hands and your mouth, and when you're fucking me so slow and deep that I see stars. I want to see that moment when you come, the way your eyes get darker and your hands clench on mine. I want to be able to watch all of that over and over again, and remember what it feels like. It'll keep me sane until we're together again.

All right, darlin', now I'm going to go take a shower, remember what it felt like to have you on your knees in front of me in that same shower when you were here, and I'm going to come with your name on my lips.

I love you, Chris, and I'm never going to stop.

Yours always,  
Len

p.s. Thanks for remembering September 20th, even if belatedly. It means a lot to me.

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

Forgive me for not writing sooner. At least we had our vidcomm a three nights ago, otherwise, I haven't had a moment to myself the last two weeks. Hell, I haven't even been able to jerk off since our vidcomm, that's how tired I've been when I finally make it home. I swear I should just sleep on the couch in my office. That would get me an extra hour with commuting. Probably wasn't the brightest idea to move back home last month, but I still am glad to be back in my own place.

And yes, I am taking care of myself the best I can, considering. I promise. I'm just trying to get everything wrapped up so I'll be all yours for those six days we'll have together. Yes, I'll have a few things to do here and there, but I have been working hard to get a majority of it done. God, I cannot wait to see you, Len.

Yes, Philip has signed on to be my CMO. I have mixed feelings, though, as it's caused a rift between him and Allen. The kids are all fine with it, but Allen took off to his next research assignment three weeks ago, not at all happy that neither of them will be on Earth for the kids. I'm sure they will work it out though. If not, I'll have my own moody and cranky CMO.

In fact, I have all my command crew firmly in place now, which is a relief. My new first officer is hard at work at her duties, which has taken some weight off of my shoulders. She's quite a spitfire, and reminds me of my former first officer from long ago. And full disclosure, yes, she (my former first officer, not my current one) is the one who was my lover. And I honestly don't remember if I ever mentioned it, but she was the first officer who died when I lost those shuttles. I was also in love with her, Len. Just so you know. It's still a touchy subject with me even after all this time. It was my first command, and I probably would have married her when our tour was over. I'll tell you more when we're together dirtside. Maybe we can both get drunk enough to talk about those difficult subjects.

As far as what else I did as a kid? Well, school and my chores on the ranch kept me pretty busy. Besides regular school, my father had me enrolled in a further studies program after school for another three hours. I'd get home just in time for dinner, and I spent the rest of my time in my room playing guitar and studying. It wasn't as bad as it sounds, though. I actually have always loved learning about new things. There wasn't a heck of a lot to do out in the desert, Len. But once I hit puberty, my interests became quite focused on two things: girls and boys.

Speaking of those girls and boys. When did you lose your virginity? I know you mentioned being pretty hot and heavy with a girl when you were fifteen. Me? Well, my first time was with a boy. He was the drummer in my band. I was fourteen, he was seventeen. I only bottomed, and it lasted about four months until he went off to college. Late that summer though, I met Marcella who was a foreign exchange student from Portugal. God, she was the sweetest thing, Len. She was sixteen, and curvy with long black wavy hair, and we spent lazy days having sex up in the loft of the barn. The first time I topped with a guy, was actually -- God, I am embarrassed to admit -- a groupie -- yes, you read that right -- after a gig New Year's Eve when I was sixteen. I lasted maybe all of three minutes in a stall in the bathroom and then sucked him dry. He didn't seem to mind though. Kind of became a regular thing, but only after gigs. I don't even remember his name now. Not sure if that's a good thing or not.

Yes, I've told my parents about you. I guess with everything going on at the time, I forgot to mention they were here about a week after I came back from the Enterprise. They had just been to Regula VII and stayed a couple of days. My mother of course was especially pleased. I'm sure you can guess why. My father asked a few questions, and I'm sure by now he knows everything there is to know about you through his fleet and diplomatic contacts. Don't be offended. He's like that. He asked how you were last time we commed, so that means he approves. They already had plans for a long space cruise before I decided to take a command again, so they won't be here for the launch. But I'm hoping our shore leave lines up next year as they'll be celebrating their fifty-fifth wedding anniversary. In fact, they're taking that cruise as an anniversary trip, and then they're going to have a celebration for friends and family when they're back, in June. I'm going to try to coordinate it so we can swing over to Florida for that and then to your place in Georgia. Does that sound okay? And please feel free to tell me if it's not. But you had better get used to it -- I tend to make plans as I see fit, forgetting sometimes that there is another person to consider.

I definitely will pick up a crystal if we happen to swing by Uxtaxia. If not, I might arrange to have someone pick up, get it to me, and then you somehow. And no, you really don't want to know how. But since realistically we may only see each other a few times in the next couple of years, I know it would help you to have it. When I am feeling especially -- I don't know -- lost, I guess, just reaching in my pocket and touching it helps me feel close to you. God, there's that pathetic thing again.

I had to chuckle at what you said about the Officer's Ball. You might have some competition for laying claim. I intend to be just as possessive, if not _more_ so, than I was at that bar on Milika. Yes, there will be dancing, kissing, and it will probably take all my willpower not to grope you. I have big plans for you the night of that ball. And no, I'm not going to tell you exactly what they are, but I will say there will be fucking involved, with each of us still in our dress uniforms. You may not like those uniforms, and I agree they aren't exactly the most comfortable things, but I promise, you'll like them a lot more when I'm done with you.

God, I'm exhausted. It's been two hours since I started this comm. I keep getting interrupted with official duties. So I'm going to pack up here -- yes, I'm still in my office at 0030 -- and head home. I still need to figure out where I'm going to set up the holocams at home for your visit next week. Yes, cams as in plural. I want to see us fucking each other from every possible angle. And I'm going to set them up throughout my apartment, on motion sensors so that they'll automatically start recording anytime we're around. So if there's any time you don't want to be recorded, let me know, all right?

I love you. God, I can't wait to see you.

Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

It's good to hear from you. You weren't kidding about a one-track mind when preparing for launch - you're not even making time to jerk off? Good god, man! It's a good thing I'll be there in a week to save you from yourself. And I'm planning to do a _lot_ of saving, so I hope you've wrapped up everything that needed to get done.

I'm relieved to hear that Boyce has agreed to come on as CMO. I'm sorry if it's caused any conflict in his relationship, but Chris, I wouldn't trust anyone else, so I can't be _too_ sorry. You said his kids have all graduated secondary school, right? They're probably jumping up and down in glee at the prospect of being free of parental oversight for a while. I remember how I was at that age.

God, Chris, I'm having enough trouble wrestling with my jealousy over you having an ex-lover onboard as your CMO. Now you tell me your first officer reminds you of a tragic love from your past? I've got to admit that scares me a little. I trust you, I do. If she's young and a spitfire though, I don't necessarily trust _her_. I'd like to meet her when I'm earthside, remind her that you're quite thoroughly taken. And yeah, I'd say that we're due for a date with a couple bottles of our respective drinks-of-choice and then we can get some of this crap off of our chests. They say you feel better after you talk about that shit. Guess we'll find out, huh?

So as soon as you hit puberty you were the local lothario - why does that not surprise me? I bet you were a blue-eyed heartbreaker, running wild in that small town. Reminds me of what Jim's told me of his adolescence, actually. The two of you were cut from the same cloth in a lot of ways. My early sexual life, on the other hand, was fairly undistinguished. I've already mentioned Jenny, my first girlfriend. I was her first as well, so we kind of fumbled through everything together. We were each other's first hand job, first oral sex, and first penetrative sex. We finally did the deed, so to speak, when we were both sixteen. It was out underneath the weeping cherry tree on my family's property. Quite a romantic spot - the tree was in full bloom and the branches reached all the way to the ground, so it was like being in a heaven of pink petals and that incredible cherry blossom scent. To this day that smell brings me right back to that first time with Jenny. She was a sweet girl. We parted tearfully when her family moved to Indiana just before our senior year of high school, but both of us recovered fairly quickly. Last I heard, which is a while ago now, she was working in Savannah designing replicator technology, and was married with a kid.

My first time with a guy was when I went away to college. I was living in the dorm at Ole Miss, and just down the hall there was another freshman named Michael. He was gorgeous, and confident, and I couldn't believe my luck that he was actually interested in me. We dated for about six months, and he was my first in terms of both topping and bottoming, although generally I topped. His roommate had a girlfriend with an off-campus apartment, so the roommate spent most of his time there, and I spent most of my time in Michael's bed. Then someone else caught his eye, he dumped me, and I spent the next few months becoming acquainted with my next great love - Jack Daniels. God damn, that was awkward, living about 25 feet away from my ex, sharing a bathroom, for god's sake. Especially since I was such a drunken mess.

So Chris, you've told me about your first sexual experiences - who was your first love? I'd say Jenny was mine - it was a naive, high school infatuation kind of love, but definitely "first love" would be an apt description, and it was the first time I'd said those words in a romantic context.

Good lord, your father is using his contacts to check me out? Should I expect to be followed by spies wearing trench coats and dark sunglasses when I'm planetside? Is my credit account being monitored? I'm kidding - sort of. If I wasn't nervous enough about the prospect of meeting your parents, now I'm going to be _really_ paranoid. Glad he approves, although he couldn't have talked to any of Jocelyn's people if he has any sort of positive opinion of me. And yeah, we can go by your parents' in Florida before we go to Georgia this summer. I would like to meet them, even if it makes me ridiculously nervous. And Chris, you go ahead and make whatever plans you want to make, but I'm no shrinking violet, and if I don't like what you've got planned, expect to get an earful. I'm sure you realized that already, though.

I'm really glad the crystal means so much to you, Chris. Really. I had hoped it would, but - well, you never know how a gift like that is going to come across. So it's really good to know that it helps you, and whenever we can make it happen, I'd love to have one as well.

I guess we'll just be two possessive bastards crawling all over each other at the Officers' Ball. The admiralty and all the dignitaries will just have to deal with it. I've only got six days with you, and I'm not wasting any of it on stupid shit like propriety and standing a proper distance apart. God, Chris, you've got no idea the ridiculous things you make me want to do. I've been fantasizing about marking you as mine when I get to earth - I'm going to leave hickeys and bite marks all over you, the way you did to me last time we were together. And, of course, I want my own share of marks from you too, to take back with me out into the black.

I'll let you handle all the technical details of holocam placement, editing, and whatnot. I'll just show up to have some marathon sex with you that we can both watch later, over and over again. Then we can doze for a bit and do it all over again. God, it'll be good to sleep on sheets that smell like you. During your visit, and even for a day or two after you left the Enterprise, I could smell you in my quarters, and I miss that. I miss it a lot. Might have to steal one of your t-shirts to take with me out into the black. Fuck, you smell good, Chris. I can't even describe it, but I love it.

All right, before I get even more maudlin, I'd better end this. Plus it's 2330 and I really need to get some sleep. This time next week, though, I'll be in your arms.

I love you.

Yours always,  
Len

  



	10. Thick and Fast They Came At Last (Part 10 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike. SPACE PROM WOO-HOO! Plus more sex, epic romance, Jim Kirk being Jim Kirk, and Bones... surfing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) (the loud one): HELL YES we used _that_ line from the poem as a title. Did you honestly think we could pass that up? :p From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/)**mga1999** (the quiet one): She made me pick that title. REALLY! Okay, maybe I picked it out. MAYBE.

_**Trek Fic: Thick and Fast They Came at Last (Pike/McCoy, NC-17)**_  
 **Title:** Thick and Fast They Came At Last (Part 10 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17 liekwoah  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** A bit D/s-y  
 **Word Count:** around 5500  
 **Summary:** The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike. SPACE PROM WOO-HOO! Plus more sex, epic romance, Jim Kirk being Jim Kirk, and Bones... surfing?  
 **Authors' Notes:** From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) (the loud one): HELL YES we used _that_ line from the poem as a title. Did you honestly think we could pass that up? :p From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) (the quiet one): She made me pick that title. REALLY! Okay, maybe I picked it out. MAYBE.

  


To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

You're asleep in our bed - god, I like the way that sounds, _our_ bed - and I'm going to join you soon, but I just wanted to write down a few things so I don't forget later.

It's halfway through our time together. I've been here with you for three days now, and damn, I wish I didn't ever have to leave. Although this time, it's you leaving first. Don't know how I'm going to feel, staying in your apartment - I mean, _our_ apartment - without you here.

I guess I should start by saying thank you, Chris, really, for asking me to make your apartment my home whenever I'm on earth. I haven't had a home on earth since the divorce, really. I don't count dorm rooms at the Academy or temporary quarters for visiting officers. But now - now, I have somewhere I belong. Somewhere that I really can come home to, when I'm planetside. Just being here makes me feel closer to you. This place is too big for one, but for the two of us, it oughta be just perfect. I've got some things in storage in Atlanta, and I'm going to have them shipped out here so I can unpack them. Don't worry, not a lot of junk. Just a few things that I kept when I left the house where I'd lived with Joss. Most of my childhood possessions and all the family heirlooms are still out at the family property.

I want to get someone - maybe Philip? - to take some holos of us together over the next couple days. I'd like to have something I can frame and put up on the walls in my quarters, maybe one or two for my office in sickbay. And maybe we can put some around the apartment, as well. Shit, Chris, you've got me feeling so goddamned domestic again. Not complaining, it's just... unexpected, I guess.

It really was endearing (your grandmother's favorite word, right?) how nervous you looked when you asked me if I wanted to move in. As if there was a snowball's chance in hell that I'd say no. You've got me in a state of constant euphoria that's making everyone around me question my sanity. I think you could probably ask me to take an around-the-earth trip with you in one of those godforsaken transparent aluminum shuttles and I'd say yes. Please don't, though. Good god.

The other thing I want to write about, so I don't forget, is the Officers' Ball. First, waiting until we were getting dressed for the ball and I was trying to wrestle myself into that scratchy dress uniform before you casually told me that you'd changed your status with Starfleet to "partnered" and listed me as your next-of-kin... that was a low-down, sneaky trick, Chris. Oh, who am I kidding. You know how goddamn happy that made me. And if you _hadn't_ realized how good that made me feel, I think I proceeded to amply prove it to you over the next half-hour or so. We were nearly late, I know, but it was worth it. Damn, Chris. And first thing tomorrow morning, I'm going to change my status as well.

Then at the ball itself - Chris, you were in your element, and I've never seen anything sexier. I don't even know how to describe it, but it's like you were magnetic. Every eye was on you, and you moved around that room like you owned it. And Chris, you did. I'm not one to be impressed by the trappings of fame or power, but with you, it's not the trappings. It's just you. You are one hell of an impressive man.

When they announced the creation of the Christopher Pike Medal of Valor... shit, Chris, I'm choking up even now, just thinking about it. I think my jaw almost hit the floor. Did you have any idea that was coming? You handled it beautifully, though. I wouldn't have been nearly as cool and calm as you were - hell, as it was, I was nearly busting with pride on your behalf. Then you got up and spoke, and you were so goddamned eloquent, about the incredible losses we'd suffered, and how you'd been prepared to give your life on behalf of the Federation but how the real heroes were those who made sure that you and all the other citizens of Earth _didn't_ lose their lives. Aside from the sheer ridiculousness of including me on that list, I think every word was perfect, and I don't have to tell you that you went a long way toward redeeming yourself in Jim's eyes with what you said about him being the exemplar of a Starfleet officer, and someone his dad would have been proud of - someone _you_ were proud of. I think he might have teared up a little bit. I know I did, along with half the people in that room.

I know I've said this before, but your presence is just... it's unbelievable, Chris. When you officially accepted command of the Exeter - it's like you were born to command. You absolutely radiated power and grace. Shit, Chris, everyone - I mean _everyone_ , from the straightest male to the gayest woman to the most asexual alien - _everyone_ there would have given their most prized possession to have been the one at your side.

But none of them got to, because of all the crazy things, _I'm_ the one who got to be at your side. I really hope I didn't look as ridiculous as I felt, because I kind of felt like a princess in a fairy tale. I'm a grown man, for god's sake, and I felt like I was floating on a cloud, being on your arm all night, dancing with you on that huge ballroom floor, meeting about a thousand dignitaries and ambassadors and heads of state and who knows what-all, and having you introduce me as "my partner, Dr. Leonard McCoy."

My face hurts from all the smiling I did, just from happiness at being there with you. You're going to ruin my reputation for grumpiness, Chris. I'm glad I got to meet your bridge crew, as well. I know you think I'm out of my mind, but Chris, I'm telling you, your new XO wants you, and she wants you _bad_. I'm sure she's an excellent officer, but just - be on your guard, all right? You're all mine, and I don't intend to share. I can hear you laughing at me, and maybe I'm being paranoid, but I don't think so. Anyway, I trust you, so it's a non-issue.

Of course the sex was incredible too - good lord, was it incredible. I couldn't believe it when you tipped that restroom attendant to keep everyone else out, and then you just _winked_ at him. That bathroom was something else, too - I think the whole thing was made of marble and dark synthwood. It was palatial. And then you leaned me against the counter, facing the mirror, so we could both watch what you were doing to me. You pulled my uniform pants down just far enough so you could fist my cock while you were fucking me, and you prepped me fast then pushed in hard, keeping eye contact with me in the mirror the entire time. Shit, Chris, that was hot. Watching myself get fucked, watching _you_ fucking me, both of us still in our dress uniforms. And the look in your eyes - it was like you were claiming me, reminding me that I belonged to you, belonged _with_ you, as if there was anywhere else that I'd possibly want to be. And then, oh, dear god, after we'd both come, you put that butt plug into me to keep your come inside of me, and it was still warm from your own body. Just the idea that you'd _planned_ that practically had me hard again, and for the rest of the evening it was driving me absolutely crazy, knowing that underneath my dress uniform, I was filled up with your come and being kept ready for the next time you wanted to fuck me.

I don't think I could remember two words of any conversation I had for the rest of the night. I just remember how I felt, with your hand always on me, on my back or my neck or my arm, and my ass sore and stretched because of you, for you.

When we got back to your apartment - _our_ apartment - god, we were like rabid wolverines, the way we were all over each other. I have to admit I'm a little proud that I not only kept up, but that I wore you out - you're still sleeping peacefully in our bed while I'm typing this.

And now I'm just proving what a moron I am, for being over here when I could be in your arms, so I'm going to sign off now. I'll set this message to auto-send in three days, on the morning you leave, so hopefully it'll be waiting for you when you reach the Exeter.

Thanks for tonight, Chris. Thanks for everything. I know these memories are going to sustain me when we're apart.

I love you, and don't you ever forget it.

Yours always,  
Len

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

We're a day out from spacedock and millions of light years away from Earth. I'm lying in bed with sheets that still smell like you and God, that sappy old man is back and I don't even care anymore. Fuck, Len. Those were the best six days of my life. I don't even know where to start, but I guess the beginning is a good place. Oh and by the way, I hope you know I was on the bridge, and we were at warp eight, when I opened the comm you sneakily auto-delayed. And shortly after, I had to run a meeting with my bridge crew. God, Len. As much as I loved it, I'm not sure the bridge crew appreciates me all flushed, not to mention hard as a rock, while I'm running staff meetings.

But getting back to our time together on earth, do you know how hard it was to sit in meetings once I knew that the Enterprise had docked? At one point Philip kicked my leg under the table. Evidently I was bouncing my knee so much he said it felt like an earthquake. I honestly think he was moments away from giving me a sedative. And when my comm vibrated that you'd arrived at our apartment? And yes, I mean that, Len. I considered it _our_ apartment even before I officially asked you to move in. In fact, I've had my lawyers draft up a trust so that if anything happens to me, it will be yours. And stop that, I don't plan on anything happening, but you are learning that I'm a man who likes my affairs in order. And knowing we are all legal with Starfleet as partners brings me peace of mind. So you are going to just have to learn to deal with that side of me. So when you get papers from my lawyers on the apartment, just sign them. Hear me?

I'm glad you liked the little 'present' I had waiting for you when you got to our apartment. I had to test those holocams, you know. So I thought the shower would be a good place for one. And since I'm rarely in there without jerking off while thinking about you -- Well, as you saw, it turned out pretty good. I have to admit, we also made some damn hot videos. We'll have to talk about them more in detail later, and I love the idea of each of us having half of all the raw footage that we can exchange later. Those motion/sound detecting holocams are pretty great, aren't they? They sure seemed to capture all of our activities. Next time, I'll have to put one in the kitchen, though. I didn't realize that my cooking for you was going to make you so amorous. Of course, I'm not complaining at all. I still don't understand how you think you need more skill with your mouth. If I had a vid of you on your knees in the kitchen, I'm pretty sure it would prove otherwise. Jesus, I could get off right now just thinking about that, but I have more to write so I'm going to wait.

I'm not surprised that we didn't make it past the front door when I got home that first day. Although leaning on the inside of the door, rutting up against each other like two teenagers -- God, what you do to me, Len. Just kissing you and holding you against me there, feeling your warm breath on my neck. And God, the sounds you make. And yes, you DO growl, Len. You only have to watch holovid #3 to hear it in all its glory.

God, I sound like a depraved man. All I've been writing about is the sex we had. But it was so much more than that. And the _more_ is what is going to keep me sane the next seven months until I see you again. It's going to be so hard not to vidcomm each week, and know it will take days sometimes for you to get my letters. But we both have our crystals now, so I feel you close, Len. In fact, when I was finishing up in my ready room earlier, I saw it turn purple, and imagined you in our bed touching yourself. It took almost an hour for it to turn aqua and God, it made me think you had to be using the cock ring and the toys we'd played with. So hot.

I seem to be doing really well at staying away from the sex subject, don't I? So let's try something else here. In answer to your last comm before we saw each other -- my first love. Well, if we are counting teenage infatuation/love, I would have to say it was that drummer in the band. His name was Steve, by the way, and I'd had a crush on him for over a year before we finally starting having sex, so yeah, I was foolish and in 'love' and said it to him all the time. But I wasn't all that brokenhearted when he left, and of course I had Marcella to keep me company practically the week after, so that was that.

Lastly, I just want to say, Len, that I feel honored that you trusted me enough to tell me the story about your father. I just -- God, I still don't know what to say. And I hope that my silence on the subject didn't make you feel like -- I don't know. Holding you when you were sobbing and telling me about it, and comforting you? I felt like I was finally able to give back to you, all the comfort that you've given to me for the last year and few months. You have nothing to be ashamed of for crying in my arms. I was glad I could be there for you. I am honored that you trust me enough to do that. And I'm sorry that after that, I wasn't quite ready to get everything off my chest, but it was just -- it was too much hearing your burden. I didn't -- I couldn't unload mine onto you right then. But I promise, either by letter, or when I see you in June -- maybe laying in your arms under a tree -- I'll share mine with you.

Since this comm will probably take a couple days to get to you, let's plan on watching holovid #2 together at 2230 on Sunday night. We might not be able to have vidcomms, but I kind of like knowing that we'll both be watching, having our crystals nearby and imagining we're with each other, instead of alone in our beds.

I'm so in love with you, Len. I'm so honored to be your lover, your partner. And when the time is right, when we're both ready, we'll make it more than that, but I'm already yours forever. I want to tell you right now, whether you are right about my XO or not, it doesn't matter. I'm _yours_. There is no one else for me. I'm completely committed to you. You have my word.

By the time you get this, Jim will have whisked you down to Mexico. Yes, I knew about it; in fact I helped plan it when Jim and I had lunch the other day. I told him to make sure you weren't moping. So do me a favor and listen to him for once.

All my love,  
Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

You and Jim conspiring together is a scary, scary thing. I almost feel sorry for the Federation's enemies, having to deal with both of you. I said almost. Bastards have it coming.

Anyway, I am enjoying Mexico, although if I'd been given my druthers, I wouldn't have chosen to come here, as you well know. Jim's been dragging me out to a different club every night - insists I'm the perfect wingman, handsome enough to attract the ladies, but taken, so I'm not competition. Any female attention that comes my way, he's happy to deflect onto himself, and any male attention, he discourages by casually mentioning my ultra-dangerous and ultra-jealous Starfleet Admiral boyfriend. It seems to deter all but the deeply stupid, and those ones I can handle myself.

Then he usually either takes his chosen conquest to the back of the club (he's classy, our Jim) or to her place for the evening, sneaking back to the hotel before dawn. Then he's up early in the morning, dragging me out to do something like touring Mayan ruins, or hiking in the forest, or even, today, scuba diving. I admit it made me a bit nervous, but it was beautiful, seeing the fish and the coral reefs.

I don't know where that kid gets all his energy. It makes me tired just watching him sometimes. I'd swear that he was on some kind of drugs if I didn't handle all of his bloodwork myself. I can practically hear him saying "I'm just high on life, Bones." Oh, wait, that IS him saying that because he's READING OVER MY GODDAMNED SHOULDER AND IF HE DOESN'T STOP THIS MINUTE I'M GOING TO WRING HIS SCRAWNY NECK.

That's better. Now he's pulling his wounded puppy eyes and taking his beer out to the balcony. Too bad the wounded puppy eyes haven't worked on me since about five minutes into our acquaintance. Oh good lord, now he's doing his "casual" pose out on the balcony, as if he's not well aware that there are five paparazzi waiting to photograph him as soon as he steps outside. Naturally, he's stripped down to his swimsuit, and it's one of those tiny ones that barely covers anything at all, because god forbid he actually be wearing any _clothes_ when his picture gets splashed across the newsnet. He just said "I can hear you rolling your eyes from out here, Bones," and why shouldn't I, if he's going to act like a goddamned peacock?

Anyway, speaking of paparazzi, I have to admit I was a little bit shocked to find the photo of us entering the Officers' Ball all over the newsnet the other day. I knew that you and Jim were celebrities, the heroes who saved earth, but I had no idea that your love life was a subject of so much public speculation and interest. I've even had a couple people ask me for my autograph, like I'm a celebrity in my own right just because I'm sleeping with you. It's weird, Chris. I managed to keep my name and face out of the press after the Narada incident, and since Jim was willing to "protect" me by handling all of the publicity himself, it wasn't too hard, but now I guess it's happened anyway. On the plus side, I know Jocelyn and her friends and family must've seen it, and to be honest, that's kind of satisfying. In fact, I've gotten a few comms from people I used to know back in Atlanta - the timing's totally coincidental, naturally - they just _happened_ to be thinking of me and wondering how I was doing, and by the way next time I'm out in their neck of the woods with my handsome partner they'd love to have us over for dinner. Yeah, I bet they would. More like they'd love to increase their own social standing by bragging about their close personal friendship with you. Vultures.

Well that's enough about what's going on with me now - I'd much rather reminisce about the time we had together.

So first, the Exeter. You know how much I hate shuttles, and how I hate transporters even more, but it was worth it to get the grand tour of your baby from its new commander. I got to see that effortless authority at work again - when you ordered everyone else off the bridge and locked it down, no one even batted an eyelash. It wouldn't have even occurred to any of them to question your order. Jim can only aspire to one day have that kind of command presence. But I'm glad you do have it, because damn, christening your ship was incredible. I'd heard rumors, but I'd always thought they were just that. (And no, I haven't asked Jim if he's "christened" the Enterprise because I do _not_ want to know.)

Anyway, after you'd locked down the bridge, you turned to me and in that same command voice, you told me to strip. That voice gives me chills, Chris. It brooks absolutely no refusal. So there I was, naked as the day I was born with you still looking cool and collected in your uniform, and then you went and sat in the Captain's chair (or is it the Admiral's chair since it's yours?) and I could see how hard you were, straining against your uniform pants. Then you handed me a tube of lube and told me to get your cock out and fuck myself on it. Shit, Chris. I'm so turned on right now just remembering it. In fact, I'm going to go into my bedroom to finish writing this while Mr. Universe out there poses for the press.

Okay, that's better. I'm alone now, and the door's locked. Got my cock in my hand now, stroking myself in between sentences as I write this.

So anyway. I knelt in front of your chair, unzipped your pants, pulled you out, all hot and heavy in my hand. I started with my mouth because your cock looked so good I couldn't resist. You put your hands in my hair and directed my mouth exactly where you wanted it to go, angling my face up so that you could look into my eyes. You weren't saying anything, weren't making any noise at all, even, but I could see the love and approval in your eyes. The only sounds were the licking and sucking and slurping noises I was making on your cock. Then you pulled my mouth off of you, and said "Enough preliminaries. Get yourself ready for my cock, Len, now."

So while you watched, and while I knelt at your feet, I stretched myself open with my fingers, got myself good and lubed up, and then lubed you up too. You turned me around to face the viewscreen and then shit, you polarized the viewscreen so that we could see out but no one else could see in, and then you made me straddle your knees facing the screen and you pulled me down onto your cock. You held my hips and controlled the pace, and you fucked me while we both watched the stars out beyond spacedock, and while we watched all the shuttles and service vehicles swarming all around. I swear I could see some of the workers' faces as they flew by, putting the finishing touches on your ship. I felt so exposed, knowing that it would take only the push of a button for you to let everyone out there see me getting fucked by you, or the push of a different button to unlock the bridge doors, or, hell, to broadcast what we were doing to every comm screen on the ship. But fuck if that didn't just add to the intensity of it. I knew you wouldn't - I never feel as safe as I do when I'm with you - but just knowing that you _could_ , Chris, it was hot. Unbelievably hot. Then you murmured in my ear "Harder, honey. Fuck yourself harder for me now," and I nearly came undone. Then you told me that I wasn't allowed to come until you said I could and that alone nearly made me come. Fuck, I'm glad I managed to hold on. I'm not sure I want to know how you would've punished me if I hadn't. Okay, I'm lying. I _really_ want to know how you would've punished me. Maybe someday I'll even be reckless enough to find out.

Fuck, just thinking about that - I'm going to come now. God, Chris.

Oh, shit, that was good.

Anyway, Chris, I rode you hard, trying desperately not to come, while you just made little grunts and gasping noises behind me. And then finally, you pulled me hard onto your cock and held me there while you came inside of me, and I could feel you pulsing and shooting into me. And I was still hard and practically whining at that point, I wanted to come so bad. After you'd recovered for a minute, you pushed me up and told me to get dressed again. Chris, I was about to kill you, then you just said "Come with me" and led me into your ready room. Then you pulled down your pants, leaned over the desk, and looked over your shoulder at me, with one eyebrow raised. Fuck, that was all the invitation I needed. I don't think I've ever prepped you that fast, and I'm supposed to be a goddamn surgeon, but my fingers were shaking so hard I nearly dropped the lube. And then I pushed into you, Chris, and it felt like heaven. Even better for the long wait you'd made me endure. Fuck, you look so good when you're bent over for me, taking my cock. I can't quite believe I lasted longer than thirty seconds, but I guess you inspire me to new heights of sexual performance. So anyway, by the time you told me I could come, and I came inside of you so hard I thought I was going to pass out, you were ready to go again. Then we both got ourselves looking relatively presentable, you released the lockdown on the bridge, and we went to break in your new quarters. I don't even know how many hours we spent in your bed, but I think we made love at least three more times. I'm glad that the sheets smell like me - it makes me feel good that I left something of me behind on your ship.

All right, fuck. Now I need to go clean up, because Jim's going to be banging on the door any minute to pester me about getting dinner. I'll write more later, tell you more of my memories of our time together. And then when I'm in bed again tonight, I'll get out the cock ring and some of the toys - yeah, that's what I was doing that time it took me an hour to come - and I'll have a nice long, slow session while thinking of you.

I love you, darlin'.

Yours always,  
Len

p.s. I wanted to tell you again how much I love having my own crystal that's imprinted on you. I don't know _how_ you got one so quickly, and it's probably better I don't ask, but damn, it's good to have it, to be able to look at it anytime and know how you're doing. In fact, I've got an idea, but I'm going to wait and see if it works first. I'll tell you about it in my next letter.

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)

Hola Señor Chris!

Buenos Dias from Mexico! This suite you scored for us is sweet! I'm sitting out on the balcony having a mimosa (hey, orange juice in the morning is good for you). Your boyfriend is still in his bedroom dead to the world. I think that club I dragged him to last night wore him out. He's having fun though! Even danced a couple times with some local ladies. And speaking of the ladies, man, you should have seen the maracas on the one I had some fun in a store room with last night. As they say, Aye Carumba!

I do have some fairly shocking news for you though, sir. So you better sit down before you read this. I wouldn't want to be guilty of causing an old man a heart attack or something. Are you ready?

Bones surfed yesterday. HE SURFED! I've been trying to get him to try it for YEARS and he finally did yesterday. Wiped out most of the time, but he was upright a few times. And SMILING to boot.

So yes, he's having fun. He's not moping too badly. And while I'm used to being recognized in San Francisco, I honestly never thought we'd be so widely known everywhere else. I will never get used to signing autographs and Bones even signed a few without giving them the glare of death! I will say though, we haven't had to pay for a drink anywhere we've been. This hero shit sometimes isn't all that bad.

Gotta run now and wake up your boyfriend. I made an appointment to go para-sailing. Bones doesn't know yet; it's a surprise. If he drowns me when he finds out what I've planned, it's been an honor, sir.

Adios!

Jim

p.s. If those holos of me with those twins make it to you, I SWEAR they told me they were eighteen.

To: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Jim,

You probably won't get this before you leave Mexico, but I'm glad the two of you are having a good time. And I have to say again, it's good -- more than good, actually -- to be talking like this with you again. I missed it, son, and I'm glad we got to spend some time together when I was earthside.

I hope you got some holos of Len surfing. That I'd like to see. I take it you survived para-sailing? I didn't get any memos about a CMO drowning his captain in the Pacific, so I'm assuming Len wasn't too opposed. You just have to push his buttons though, don't you? I think that's a good thing, just don't tell him I said so.

The Exeter is quite a ship. She will never be the Enterprise, but I've already gotten pretty attached to her. I've got a good crew. A nice mix of experienced and firsties. But I'm trying to really enjoy everything about it. I don't know if Len told you or not, but this is my last tour. I'm not leaving Starfleet, but I won't take another command again after this. Still not exactly sure what I'm going to do. I did enjoy that one semester teaching at the Academy, but I still don't know if that's right for me. I have five years to figure it out, though.

Enjoy the rest of your shore leave. It's going to be a long seven months out in the black for all of us.

Take care, son,  
Chris

  
  



	11. After the Day Was Done (Part 11 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike. And Jim Kirk, because he's just a buttinski like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) (the loud one): This is, what, the fourth fic I've posted this weekend? Are you sick of me yet? :p From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/)**mga1999** (the quiet one): That's what happens when I'm MIA for a day. She obviously can't be left unattended. :P

_**Trek Fic: After the Day Was Done (Pike/McCoy, NC-17)**_  
 **Title:** After the Day Was Done (Part 11 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17 lite (kind of soft-core-ish)  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** around 5000  
 **Summary:** The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike. And Jim Kirk, because he's just a buttinski like that.  
 **Authors' Notes:** From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) (the loud one): This is, what, the fourth fic I've posted this weekend? Are you sick of me yet? :p From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) (the quiet one): That's what happens when I'm MIA for a day. She obviously can't be left unattended. :P

  
  


  
To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: James T. Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)

Bones,

This meeting is boring. Entertain me.

Jim

To: James T. Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Jim,

Some of us are busy doing important things.

Bones

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: James T. Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)

Bones,

Oh please. You had everything you needed to do done the first morning we were back in San Fran. Whacking off repeatedly while thinking about your boyfriend doesn't count as BUSY.

Jim

To: James T. Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Jim,

Your tastefulness and sheer class never fail to astound me.

Bones

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: James T. Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)

Bones,

I notice you didn't deny that that's what you were doing. By the way, it's pretty rich that you wrote to Chris about how "classy" I am for taking girls to the back of clubs when you two had sex in the bathroom at the Officers' Ball. Don't think I couldn't tell how fucked-out you both looked when you snuck out of that bathroom that had been "closed for maintenance."

Jim

To: James T. Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Jim,

Next time I see you I'm going to hypospray your ass into next Sunday.

Bones

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: James T. Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)

Bones,

Fine. Have fun moving all those boxes into Chris's place by yourself then.

Jim

  
To: James T. Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Jim,

Oh no, three whole cardboard boxes. However will I manage?

Bones

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: James T. Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)

Bones,

Fine, I can see you're just in a pissy mood. Go back to your porn holovids that you made with Chris. Maybe it'll put you in a better mood.

Jim

  
To: James T. Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

JIM - HOW THE HELL DID YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT? IF YOU'VE BEEN HACKING MY COMPUTER AGAIN I'M GOING TO KILL YOU.

  
To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: James T. Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)

Bones,

I didn't know for sure, but you just confirmed it. I'm so awesome at this tactics shit. Thanks for the entertainment! See you tomorrow!

Jim

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

I've attached some holos of Bones surfing. See - PROOF. He was actually upright for at least twenty seconds! And smiling! Had to get them from the paps though. Sometimes they are good for something at least. I just wish they didn't upset Bones so much. Negotiations went well though, I got the holos and got them to agree to leave us alone the last couple of days if I agreed to wear the speedo para-sailing. So they got those shots and Bones got to relax without cameras lurking the last two days. Well worth it.

I just took a virtual tour of the Exeter and she's quite a ship, Chris. You actually have a hundred more crew than I do, but I'm not complaining. I have a hard enough time keeping track of the eight hundred and forty-seven I have. I am taking your advice though, and learning to delegate. Or trying to. Bones would say I'm not at all, but I'm doing better than I was. It's not easy for me though. I have a great yeoman, and I arranged for him to have help too. I'm not good at giving up control though, as you know. Of course I've been told by Admiral Archer that _you_ were even worse than I am. That's a pretty scary thought.

I'm looking forward to getting back out there. I'm getting a little jittery sitting around my temporary quarters. Tomorrow I'm helping Bones move some stuff he had shipped from Atlanta into your place. Or should I say yours and Bones' place? Bones is shacking up. Never thought it would happen, but I'm happy for him, and for you. I know I told you all this while you were here. It was great to see you every day in morning command meetings and grab lunch before you headed back to Bones. And I meant what I told you, that I'm going to try _not_ to overreact when things go wrong -- Maybe I'll have Uhura teach me a few more dozen languages than the twenty four I know how to count to ten in. Bones and I had a long talk too this week, and I think that helped. Well, I mean helped me see it from the standpoint that relationships aren't going to always be 'sunshine and cherry blossoms' as he called it. So I'll try to only threaten to kick your ass half of the time. Deal?

Well, I think I'm going to go run some laps, or maybe down and across the Golden Gate Bridge before I go stir crazy.

Jim

To: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Jim,

I really appreciate you getting the holos for me. I agree, it's nice to see him smiling. Glad the both of you got some peace from the paps the last couple of days. I'm sorry, I should have figured they'd be on you two down there. Next time, I know a few places more private. Let me know if you get unexpected shore leave on earth and I'll set it up for you.

I know that jittery feeling you describe. It does get better, though, when you've been around a little longer. Of course Philip just tells me it's because I'm old and my nerves are already degenerating. I'm glad you came to dinner at his house for my early birthday celebration. His daughter Kianna was absolutely _thrilled_ to meet you. That goddaughter of mine is going to make one hell of a bridge officer someday.

Well, I'm tired and I still have to write Len before I turn in, so this is going to have to be short.

Be safe out there, son.

Chris

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

I got the holos from Jim of you surfing. I especially like the one of you wiping out. But come on, you have to admit you had fun. You looked like you were having fun. And seeing you walk out of the water holding the surfboard, hair dripping and water all over your skin. Damn. I guess the paparazzi are good for something. I still can't believe Jim wheeled and dealed with them to get copies. Only Jim.

Speaking of paparazzi, I think you may be right about my XO, Commander Sato. Now, stop having a heart attack. She can want me, but she's never going to have me. She propositioned me none too subtly and I flat out told her I was taken, committed and don't cheat. But she got a little too much satisfaction out of making sure I saw the tabloid holos of you and Jim during your Mexico vacation splashed across the gossipnet. I'm sure she was quite confused when I shrugged them off. In fact, I told her I'd arranged the suite for the two of you. The look on her face, Len -- I will admit I may have had a little too much fun with the whole situation. But the best part of it? It didn't bother me at all. No jealousy. That made me feel pretty damn good.

So it's been a week on the Exeter now. We've reached our primary assigned vector. The planets are mostly uninhabited, but the federation starbase sees a lot of traders and, like every other remote system, a few pirates. Since there are about a dozen federation planets in the four systems around it, here we are. We're supposed to be out here for five months and then hit the neutral zone for the two month tour on the way home. There's a small system out here with a couple of planets that Starfleet has been wooing to join the federation. So I'm sure we'll be opening diplomatic relations with them soon. I really want the crew to feel a little more settled first, though.

I wish there had been a way for me to holovid our christening the Exeter. Unfortunately, there wasn't without it going through ship security protocols. And while I can lock it down pretty tightly with my clearance, there are still too many people who could have easily accessed it when it originates on the ship. Don't think I didn't think about it though, but it's not something I'll ever forget anyway. It's going to be a long time before I can sit in the captain's chair without getting hard. And I'm not just saying this because I'm with you, Len, but it was definitely the best 'christening' sex I've ever had. That was the fifth, but the first with someone I love. So it's very special to me, especially considering it will be my last. And by the way, Jim certainly _did_ christen the Enterprise. I won't say anymore since you don't want to know. And in case you are wondering, no, I never did. There wasn't time.

Now, onto other things. No, I didn't know they were creating that medal of valor. They did a good job of keeping that a secret from me. I'm glad you think I handled it so well, because I was completely winging it. But yeah, I'm good at stuff like that. I've always been a natural public speaker. I'm sure that being in a band from the time I was twelve helped a lot. I was used to crowds. I was proud as hell to have someone to share the honor with, someone actually there with me. To be able to look over and see you and Jim meant so much to me. I'm not kidding, Len. I wouldn't be alive, and wouldn't have been standing up there to be able to receive the honor, if it wasn't for you two. You may like deflecting attention from yourself, but ultimately, if you hadn't taken Jim onto the Enterprise, none of us would be here right now. It all started with _you_.

Speaking of that subject, I want you to listen to me, Leonard McCoy. Imagine me using that authoritative voice you love so much. All right? I'm tired of this self-deprecating shtick. Humility is fine; putting yourself down at every turn is not. As a psychologist, you _know_ this, you just won't look at it objectively. It's one thing if you don't like the spotlight; that isn't for everyone. But honey, it hurts me that you think so little of yourself sometimes. I realize your ex-wife did a number on you. And I'm sure what happened with your father didn't help, but at only thirty-two, you have THREE doctorates, you've invented a brain stem grafting technique that's saved thousands of lives already, cured a plague on Capella IV before you were even out of med school, saved not only my life, but I've been told many times that I would have never walked again if not for the pure genius of your surgical skills on the Enterprise. You then developed the neural model that got my sexual functioning back months, if not years, sooner than it may have come back on its own. And _that_ saved my life too, Len. You saved Earth, hell, the entire Federation. And if I have to remind you of that every day for the rest of my life to get it through your stubborn head, I will. So I think it's time that _you_ got your head out of your own ass and realized what an amazing not only doctor, but man you are. I might also add, you snagged one of the most eligible bachelors on the planet, falling behind only James Tiberius Kirk.

Do I need to go on? Because I have a whole arsenal I can pull out if I need to. I love you, honey. I want you to see how incredible you are. And don't throw the 'I know I'm a good doctor' line back at me again. If you _knew_ you were that good -- well, you would be able to see the amazing _man_ that I see. I mean it, Len. You know I don't say things that aren't true, and frankly, if you haven't figured it out by now, I can be a pretty shallow man in certain ways. I'm not proud of that, but I've never been with anyone who wasn't a looker. And your looks might have initially attracted me, and the fact that I'm beyond sexually compatible with you, but I fell in love with you for _you_. Your courage, your compassion, your absolute dedication to your vocation, and it might surprise you that I'm saying this, but your devotion to Jim. You have no idea how much I am attracted to all of that. You, Leonard McCoy, are the total package. Man, I sound like a used hover-car salesman now, but I hope you understand, since I don't articulate these things well. In Jim-speak, I'm sure it would be something like: "You're hot, let's fuck." Do I get points for doing, I hope, a little better than that?

Now, onto better things. So you liked the bathroom during the ball, huh? I have to say, I originally planned on taking you up to the Exeter after the ball, but I wanted to spend more time on the ship with you than just a quick fuck on the bridge, and I know how late those balls have lasted in the past. But I wanted you to have a good memory of us being in those dress uniforms, so I got a little creative, and no, I've never done that, had sex at a Starfleet function, with anyone else before -- never wanted to. _You_ , Len, make me want to do things I've never done before.

You, Leonard McCoy, have made me into one of those men I used to roll my eyes at. The ones gushing about their wives or husbands. I'm not kidding. Ask Philip. Ask Spock, I'm sure he'd tell you 'Captain Pike speaks the truth.'

Now, my favorite moment during our time at home. This may surprise you, but it was the night before my birthday. Remember, you lying there in between my legs in our bed, resting against my chest? We were both half drowsing, half reading our PADDs after dinner with the Barnetts. We'd both had enough wine to make us relaxed and lazy. I was approving last-minute supply requests for the Exeter, you were reading a new journal article. I realized I was perfectly content in bed with you there. Just being there with you. And honestly, I haven't ever had anyone in that bed for anything other than sex. I don't know how to explain it, but I just felt _home_ , Len. And I finished my last bit of work and kissed the crown of your head, and you sighed, and I knew that you were just as content as I was.

God, I'd never wanted you more, and I wasn't even hard at that point. So I let you finish, and when I saw you get to the end of your article, I moved my hand down, brushing my thumb across the top of your flannel pants. And when I slid it under the band, your breath hitched, and I stroked your gorgeous cock until you were hard, and slowly, so slowly, I caressed you, as your head tilted up and we kissed each other just as slowly. Those deep sounds that come from the back of your throat nearly made me flip you over and take you right then, but I didn't. I was patient, and teased you, kissed you until you arched against me and came so powerfully, shaking and shuddering and I'd never seen anything more beautiful, Len.

I think we kissed another, God, it had to be fifteen, twenty minutes, you still lying against me, until I just had to have you. We stripped our pants off. It was all so slow, so natural, and so -- there are no words. Even prepping you was just as slow and careful, and when I finally slid into you, I swear both of our eyes rolled into the backs of our heads. I've never had sex, no, _made love_ so slowly, our fingers laced together next to your head as I moved in and out of you, our mouths fused, your legs wrapped around my back -- every part of us that could be connected was. God, Len, I cannot wait to find that part on the raw footage we shot. Because _that_ will be what I'll be re-watching the most. The toys, the bondage, the quick fucks -- yeah, those are all pretty great -- I just, really, can't even describe it, Len. Except to say that I love you. And now, I'm going to lie in bed, and touch myself just as slowly, and it will be _your_ name on my lips when I come.

Forever yours,  
Chris

  
To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

I'm back in our apartment now, and good lord, that still sounds weird to me. Our apartment. Anyway, got back from Mexico a few days ago, and for the next week we'll be here in San Francisco dealing with the resupplying and repairs for our next trip out. Jim's nearly as preoccupied as you were before the Exeter launch, overseeing a million details and refusing to delegate any of them. I don't have quite as much to do - I need to supervise the installation of some new medical equipment in sickbay, and make sure that we get properly restocked, but that's about it. So I'm at loose ends for most of the week.

Me and loose ends are not friends, Chris. Keep me busy, and I'm all right. Give me free time and nothing to do, though, and I tend to brood and worry and imagine a thousand worst-case scenarios. Most of which, right now, involve you either in bed with Ayumi Sato, or dead with your atoms scattered across the galaxy. Damn it, I'm a morbid bastard. Anyway, I'm sure you don't want to hear this shit, and I don't particularly want to admit how much time I spend dwelling on it, so I'll move on.

Mexico was good. I'm glad Jim dragged me. I wish you'd been there, though - the beaches were so beautiful, and there were so many things that I would've liked to've shared with you. Someday we'll travel together. Maybe in that boat you've been dreaming about.

It was good to spend some time with Jim, though, in a situation where he wasn't trying to get his fool ass shot at or tortured or eaten by a marauding beast. I know the tabloids made a lot of the fact that Jim and I were there together, and I'm glad that you didn't feel jealous, Chris. Real glad. I think the shoe's on the other foot now, though, because I gotta admit I was pretty upset to read in your last comm that Cmdr. Sato propositioned you. And that she was trying to drive a wedge between us by putting those tabloid stories in your way. I trust you, Chris. I know you're committed to me and that you'd never hurt me that way. It's just... I don't know. When someone wants to cause problems between a couple, and they're really determined to do it, they can usually find a way. I guess I'm just scared. Damn, I hate admitting that, but it's true. I'm no strategist, but if you picked her as your XO, she _is_ a strategist, and a damn good one, and she'll keep trying to break us up until she succeeds or finds another target.

Enough about that. How are things on the Exeter? Any exciting missions? How's the crew coming together? How's Philip? Give him my best, and remind him that if anything happens to you, he's answering to me.

Glad to hear the christening sex was something special for you, because god knows it was one of the highlights of my sexual life so far. But good lord, what in my last comm gave you the impression that I wanted to know whether Jim had christened the Enterprise? I know far more than I'd like to about that idiot's sex life as it is, with all the new and exciting STDs he seems to pick up every time he sets foot off the ship, and even sometimes when he doesn't. And no, he isn't sleeping with his crew. He considers them strictly off-limits, which is a stunning example of maturity given who we're talking about. But it seems we're always ferrying some gorgeous female ambassador from one world to another, and Jim seems to consider it his duty to sleep with all of them - "captainly hospitality," or some damn thing, he calls it.

And what's more, now you've got me wondering when on earth you two compared notes on christening sex, and what you told him. Good god, please tell me he's not privy to any of the details of our sex life. What a horrifying thought. I'm guessing not, though, both because you've got more discretion than that and because if he did know anything, he would've already made at least a dozen jokes about it by now. And on that note, I'd better confess that he weaseled out of me the fact that we've made some vids together. I fell for the oldest goddamned trick in the book, Chris, but you'd think that it was the world's most advanced strategy by the way he's crowing about it. Anyway, in case he makes any references to our vids, you'll know why. Sorry about that. I really am an idiot sometimes.

It would never have occurred to me that you might have made a vid of our sex on the Exeter, but I'm glad that you didn't, considering the risks. It also would never have even occurred to me to even ask whether you'd christened the Enterprise yourself. God damn, do you captain types ever think about anything other than sex? Not that I'm complaining, you understand, because that'd be more than a little hypocritical of me. I'm just amazed, is all.

As for my "self-deprecating shtick," as you put it, well, that's a hard thing to change. Part of it is humility, which was a value ingrained in me early and often, and with the aid of a leather strap if I forgot. I was taught that it's not right or proper to sing your own praises, or to even acknowledge that there might be truth in something good that someone says about you. You learn that lesson well enough, you go from disclaiming praise to actually disbelieving it. And yeah, part of it is the shit that I'm carrying around from my marriage and from my father's death. I've always just kind of chalked it up to "that's just how I am." But I can see it really bothers you, so I'll try, Chris. For you. I'll try to believe the good things you say about me. Please don't ever think I'm ungrateful for all the incredible things you say about me, because I'm not. It's just - intellectually, I know you wouldn't lie, and I know I've done some things to be proud of. I know that you see me as a good man. But the distance between that and actually feeling pride in any of my accomplishments, or believing that I am that person that you see me as - that's a chasm I've never been able to bridge. I do have reason for believing that I'm _not_ the man you think I am, and I'll write to you about that soon, but just... not yet. I can't face it right now.

I had noticed that you seem to put a lot of stock in physical attractiveness, and it sort of astounded me that I met your criteria in that department. I'm not saying this to be self-deprecating, Chris, and I'm not fishing for compliments. I don't think that I'm hideously ugly, but as you said, you're one of the planet's most eligible bachelors, and I'm... not. I saw the holo you referred to, though, the one of me walking out of the ocean after surfing, and I have to admit, the first time Jim gave it to me, I didn't know it was me. I didn't recognize myself. I was kind of silhouetted anyway, so my face wasn't very clear. But it was bizarre, Chris. For just a moment, I saw myself as if I were a stranger. And yeah, for the split second before I recognized myself, I thought "Huh, that's a good-looking guy." But then I recognized it was me and the awkwardness and self-consciousness came crashing back down and the moment was gone. Anyway, I don't know what that means, if anything, but I thought I'd share it. And I wanted to ask you something, because I know you put a lot of value on physical appearance. What's going to happen if I'm not aesthetically pleasing to you in the future? If I... I don't know, get fat, or get burned beyond a dermal regenerator's ability to repair, or if I just age badly? This is probably a stupid thing to worry about - I mean, why borrow trouble? - but this is the shit that keeps me up at night when I'm alone in our bed and you're a million miles away.

Now on to happier things. God, Chris, that night you described, the evening before your birthday, that was incredible. Like you, I just felt like I was home. Just being in bed with you, lying between your legs and resting against your chest. I felt... content. Like there was nothing missing, nothing else I needed or wanted to be doing besides just being there with you, surrounded by you.

Chris, I had such a good time on your birthday. I loved taking care of you. I loved making you breakfast in bed (yeah, you can tease me about how I put peaches on everything I eat, but you loved my peach waffles, and don't try to deny it). I loved drawing you a bath to warm you up after we walked barefoot on the beach, and then giving you a long massage after your bath. And I loved the lazy afternoon sex, just focusing on you for hours, making you feel good, kissing you and making love to you over and over, dozing in between. I'm always happiest when I've got someone to take care of, Chris, so thank you for allowing me to take care of you on your birthday.

Also meant to tell you how nice it was when you pulled out your guitar and played for me. I don't know the song you played, but it was beautiful, and you've got a gorgeous singing voice. The look on your face when you play - well, it's incredible. It's like you're transported to another place or something. I can definitely see that if you weren't a Starfleet officer, you'd have been a professional musician. And, in case you don't know this already, though I'm sure you do, you're _unbelievably_ sexy when you're playing and singing. Never really understood the phenomenon of "groupies" before, but good lord, I get it now.

Jim helped me move some of my things into your place - sorry, _our_ place - mostly some PADDs, a few holos of my parents and my med school graduation, civilian clothes that I packed up when I joined Starfleet, stuff like that. Jim surprised me - he'd talked to Philip and gotten copies of the holos that Philip took of us, and he had some of them framed. So now there's holos of us together throughout the apartment. I think they look nice. You'll have to tell me what you think when you're next here. He also got the holo of me surfing enlarged and framed - his idea of a joke. He said you'd appreciate it, anyway.

I'm sure you realize that that's the ultimate stamp of approval from James T. Kirk - means he's forgiven you (still not convinced you did anything that needed forgiving, but he and I have agreed to disagree on that particular point). I also talked to him and told him that sometimes, even when mommy and daddy love each other very much, there are going to be times when they get mad and yell at each other. And that it is _not_ his job to threaten to kick anyone's ass when this happens; that in fact, he should keep his damn nose _out_ of it. He was pretty noncommittal, but hopefully he got the message. I guess time will tell.

Oh, I told you I'd had an idea about the crystal. I found a jeweler here in the city, someone who's actually worked with Uxtaxian crystals before. I asked her if a portion of the crystal was cut or chipped off, whether it would retain its color-changing properties, and she said it would. So I had her take a small piece off of the crystal you gave me and set it in a ring. Just a simple platinum band. So now I've got a bit of you with me wherever I go, and I can just look at my hand and see how you're doing. If you want, next time we're earthside, we can do the same thing for yours. I've got to say, Chris, I like how it feels on my finger. I like looking at it and knowing that it's a tangible reminder of our commitment. I'm not wearing it on my left hand, but maybe someday... well, as you said, we'll talk about that down the road.

Right now, it's sort of a swirl of green and yellow. I know the green's happiness, and as near as I can tell, the yellow's... preoccupation, or slight stress, or maybe just being busy. And you're probably in the middle of your duty shift, so I'm guessing all's well, and it's just a normal day in the life of a starship commander.

And now I'm going to go through some of that raw holo-footage of us, and see if I can find the night before your birthday, for you, and the day of your birthday, for me. So don't be surprised if my crystal turns purple and stays that way for a while.

I love you, Chris. I always will.

Yours,  
Len

  



	12. Shed a Bitter Tear (Part 12 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike. Len gets all emo. :O

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) (the loud one): Okay, okay, here's part 12! Don't kill us, please! From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/)**mga1999** (the quiet one): The angst is all her fault. I wanted sunshine and porn, really. :P

_**Trek Fic: Shed a Bitter Tear (Pike/McCoy NC-17)**_  
 **Title:** Shed a Bitter Tear (Part 12 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17 lite (kind of soft-core-ish)  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** around 3000  
 **Summary:** The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike. Len gets all emo. :O  
 **Authors' Notes:** From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) (the loud one): Okay, okay, here's part 12! Don't kill us, please! From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) (the quiet one): The angst is all her fault. I wanted sunshine and porn, really. :P

  


  
To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

Last few days on the Exeter have been uneventful. Not complaining though. The crew is getting used to each other and already improving on efficiency slightly ahead of where I expected them to be. Just ran a surprise drill during gamma shift, and can't get back to sleep, so I decided to write you.

God, I miss you. It's as simple as that. Being able to sleep next to you for six nights -- well, I've never slept better than when you're in bed next to me. It killed me to let the yeoman change the sheets the other day, even though your smell was gone.

I went through the raw footage looking for the night before my birthday. Sadly, I seem to have the first three days, so obviously you have it. I also found it quite interesting to watch the first three days, or as I'm now referring to them, the 'fucking' days, because that's pretty much all they were. Quick and constant hard and fast fucks. Half the time, we didn't even finish undressing. And these are just from the bedroom. I don't think we always made it back there. Like you described it the night of the ball -- like wolverines. That's a good description. I guess we were working off months of not being with each other. I think that night before my birthday was the first time we went slow and made love.

As much as I want to talk about my birthday more, I need to get serious here. Len, I don't know how I can help you feel better about Commander Sato. I had another sit down with her. And I made it perfectly clear to her if she kept making _any_ overt gestures or made further insinuations about your fidelity from the gossipnets, that I would bring her up on charges before she could blink. She wasn't happy, but I think it's pretty clear she knows I'm not going to tolerate it. And I won't. The last few days she's been nothing but professional. I'm sorry your mind automatically goes to dark places. So yes, the shoe is on the other foot now. I was the same way about Jim, but I do have to admit I'm not quite as morbid as you are.

Tell me what I can do to help, Len. I will tell you, though, that she has moved on to screwing around with my chief engineer, if that helps. She's young, Len. She's only twenty-eight. She's ambitious and it's her first command. Plus she seems to have a libido the size of Jim's. She'll settle down. I wouldn't have brought her on my crew if I thought she'd be a problem. So please, know that I love you. Know that you are the _only_ one I want, and frankly, I am not attracted to her at all. She's not my type. Okay, honey?

Now, to your humility. I know you are a humble guy, Len. And there is nothing wrong with that. In fact I find it hot as hell for the most part. It's just when you put yourself down. That's what bothers me. You are so much more than the man you think you are, Leonard McCoy. I sometimes wish you could see yourself through my eyes, or even Jim's eyes. You do realize he teases you so much to get you out of your self-loathing, right? And it works, whether you admit it or not. I'm not that type. I don't tease like he does. I'm direct and to-the-point, and that probably doesn't help. I don't want you to think I'm being harsh about this, I just want you to love yourself as much as I love you. I know that's not easy, though, and I'm going to try to be patient about that.

As I said to you before, it was your attractiveness that _initially_ got my attention. And I'll admit, if I hadn't been in the chair, I might have only spent a few nights together with you, and that would have been tragic. Because that's always been my problem. I go for the looks, have sex, and in most cases, never look beyond that. I'm glad I got a chance to look beyond that. I fell in love with you before we even had sex, Len. I'm actually glad I couldn't that first time you were here because frankly, that might have been it. A few days of fucking, and after you left I might have gone looking for something else. I'm being completely honest here. That's how I was.

I fell in love with my first officer by proximity, Len. Only because I was _forced_ to look beyond the sex after years of us being together off and on. I did love her, though; I'm not going to lie and say I didn't. We were talking marriage, we were talking kids, we were finally _committed_ after almost ten years of our little 'game' with each other. And then I lost her. Just like that. I was devastated. I almost gave up my command, that's how devastated I was. But I took the time I needed in the desert and three months later I was back on my ship. And yes, back to my old ways.

Years later, I married my wife, because like I said, she fit the criteria I was looking for. I'd decided it was time. I was going to find someone and get married and settle down. And that's pretty much what happened. I met her at a bar. For once I didn't take her home like I would have previously. We dated, we started sleeping together. She moved in. We got married. She didn't get pregnant before I shipped out like we hoped for, nor did she the couple times I was back the first year or so.

Those relationships just weren't meant to be, Len. I believe that now. My grandmother always says 'everything happens for a reason.' I used to roll my eyes at her. But she's right. She's absolutely right. Because if events had played out any differently, I wouldn't have you, Len. And that would be the biggest tragedy of all. Because I cannot imagine my life without you anymore. And that's nothing I have ever felt in my life. I wasn't looking for anything when we started writing these letters, and you weren't either. Like you said before, it caught us both by surprise.

So to answer your question, I don't care what you look like anymore. I don't care how badly you age. I don't, I really don't. I just want you with me, Len. Even if we could never have sex again, I'd want you with me.

You're my home, Len.

There's more I want to say, and need to answer from your last letter, but some of these memories -- well, they are a little tough -- and it's 0330. I have Beta shift tomorrow, but I have a vidcomm with Dr. Elliott in the morning, so I'd better sign off. I'll write more tomorrow.

I love you.

Chris

  
Dear Len,

Long day. Never did sleep much more than a couple of hours, so I think I will be resting my tired body in that great jacuzzi bath you had my medical team authorize for my quarters. Don't think Philip didn't tell me you were the catalyst for that. But thank you anyway. I only wish you were here to enjoy it with me.

My session with Dr. Elliott this morning was interesting. I was tired. I was a bit on edge. I discussed the comm I'd just sent you and by the time it was over I came to the conclusion that I _really_ am not good at this relationship stuff. Half of the things she has said to me since I started seeing her would have never occurred to me. Some of that came out in my last comm to you. It helped her a lot to get to meet you while we were home. I have a question for you now, that she brought up today. I wish it had come up when we were on Earth, but anyway - she wants to schedule a vidcomm with Jim. She thought I would have a problem with it, but frankly I didn't. I told her it was fine and if it's okay with you, would you mind asking Jim? I'd rather keep you and I out of my comms with him. I think it's helping us continue to repair the problems I caused. So let me know.

Speaking of Jim. No, of course I haven't shared any details of our sex life with him. Save for a comm I jokingly sent him once about the fact that you might be walking crooked -- and let's say after that he asked me not to go there anymore. You know tactics is my forte, and I used a bit of shock value early on so he would leave us alone. His Enterprise christening came up because we had dinner shortly before her re-launch, before we were even involved. And yes, we 'captain types' talk about that stuff. You knew Jim and I had a lot in common in that regard. I had fun walking down memory lane with him that time over dinner. But I promise you, nothing between us will ever be part of any discussion with him, or with anyone else.

Really though, I'm glad you and Jim got to spend some time relaxing together. The two of you needed it. I know you're constantly in a state of stress worrying about him on the ship, and rightfully so. I know that you know this, and make cracks about him on purpose, but in most ways, Jim is more vulnerable than either of us. We both know most of his bravado is an act, an easy way to deflect people from seeing the real Jim Kirk. It's easier for him to hide, but I'm telling you, Len -- That kid feels deeper about things than anyone I've ever seen. So keep an eye on that. You're probably the only one who can. I was touched at all the holos he had framed. He sent me a picture of them up in our place. He also told me he had had one of us at the ball framed to put up in his quarters. If he put it up next to the one of you and him kissing, we may have to have words, though.

Now onto happier things. Like my birthday. I have to admit, I've never had anyone bring me breakfast in bed before. And I'm not used to having anyone take care of me either. But I could definitely get used to it. You spoil me, Len. And that's not anything I ever thought I would really want, but damn, I have to admit it feels good. I have a lot to live up to next time we're together for your birthday. And while you didn't wake me up with your mouth on my cock, when you 'accidentally' dropped those peaches down there and had to go lick them off? Fuck, Len. Every time I don't think I could possibly come any harder, you outdo yourself. And tasting my semen mixed with peaches in your mouth kissing you after? Yeah, I definitely want to see that part of the holovids again.

So you like my singing, huh? I was never the lead singer of any of the bands I was in, but I'd sing backup. My voice is okay, much better unamplified. It's ironic how my voice can carry so well when I'm giving a command, but not when I was singing in a crowded noisy room. Which is just as well. I know I'm where I'm supposed to be, just as you are.

I can't believe you had the crystal made into a ring. What a fantastic idea. Really. Send me the info on the jeweler you went to and if I unexpectedly make it back earlier than you do, I'll get mine done too. The idea that you're wearing that crystal in a ring -- The first time I read that, I got a lump in my throat, Len. It means -- Well, it means a lot.

As far as the colors, you're probably right about the yellow. I'm very happy most of the time when I'm on duty, but there is always quite a bit of stress thrown in for good measure. Of course I thrive on stress, which probably explains why it swirls both colors. Yours is a little pink right now. I don't know if that means you're close to getting angry, or something else. You'll have to let me know.

That jacuzzi bath is calling me now. The back spasms are back the last couple of days. Philip says it's nothing serious, so don't worry. I'm sure it's stress, and the fact that I need to move around instead of sitting in the captain's chair as much as I do. Just little adjustments I need to make since I'm still not quite a hundred percent.

Love you, honey. I hope these two comms reassure you how much.

Yours,  
Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

Tomorrow the Enterprise is departing, so this is my last night on earth, in our apartment, for a while. And I'm a little drunk, and a little lonely, and re-reading your last couple of comms, and just - you keep saying that I'm a good person, that I should love myself, but you don't _know_.

So before I lose my nerve, I want to tell you the rest of the story about my father. I already told you that he was on life support - he had pyrrhoneuritis, and he was in constant pain. Agony, really. I told you he begged me to turn off the machines that were keeping him alive. God, Chris, he _begged_. My daddy did not _beg_ , ever. He might yell, or command, or rage, and those things I knew how to handle. But he didn't _beg_ , until he did, and I had no idea how to deal with it. I tried to resist him, but, well... I've told you this part. I gave him an overdose of sedatives and then I turned off the life support.

And then, three weeks later, when it was announced that they'd discovered a cure for pyrrhoneuritis... fuck, Chris. I'd killed my own daddy and for _nothing_. If I'd been stronger, had forced him to hang on just a little longer... I wanted to die myself. I pretty much crawled into a bottle and didn't come out until I joined Starfleet.

Anyway, that's the part I already told you. The rest involves Jocelyn, and I just couldn't tell you then. I'd already told you I was a murderer, I couldn't face the look in your eye when I told you the rest. So here goes, and yeah, I know I'm a coward for doing this by letter when you're millions of light-years away.

Jocelyn knew what I'd done. I never told her, but she knew. She hated me for it. I don't blame her. I swore an oath, Chris, an oath to protect life, to do no harm. And I broke that oath, and my father died for it. If I hadn't, he'd probably still be alive and healthy today.

So then she lost the baby, and a marriage that was already in trouble went to hell in a handbasket in a damn hurry. We were fighting one night - well, it was what we did most nights, to tell the truth. Anyway, I don't even remember what started this particular fight, but it got heated and we were yelling about the miscarriage, lashing out at each other, and then Jocelyn said "God doesn't give babies to men who kill their own daddies."

And I don't even believe in God, but still, she was right. I don't deserve a child of my own, not when I killed the man who gave me life.

I don't want you to think that I was the innocent party here. I gave as good as I got. I called her a lying whore and said that - fuck, Chris, I said that the baby probably wasn't even mine and it was a good thing Joss had miscarried so that I wasn't stuck raising some other man's spawn.

How could I have said that? I didn't care if it was my baby or not, I loved that little girl and I wanted her more than I ever wanted anything.

But the truth is, I did kill my father, and I told my wife that it was a good thing our child had died. What kind of a man does that make me? A piss-poor one, by any definition. So, Chris, I don't deserve a child. Hell, I don't deserve any kind of happiness, and I definitely don't deserve the happiness that you've given me.

I won't blame you if you never want to see my face again. And I don't deserve this consideration, but all I'm asking is that you keep this confidential. And if by chance you don't hate me after all of this... don't give me absolution, Chris. I don't deserve it.

Now I'm going to hit send before I lose my nerve completely. If you - if you still want to talk to me after reading this, I'll answer the rest of your two comms later.

Len

  



	13. No Cloud Was In the Sky (Part 13 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike - the aftermath of Len's descent into angst. Ironical title is ironical. :p

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) (the loud one): Let me use my soapbox here to once again pimp [](http://pikemccoy.livejournal.com/profile)[**pikemccoy**](http://pikemccoy.livejournal.com/). GO JOIN, BBs! From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/)**mga1999** (the quiet one): Oh sure, create a community where I might be tempted to pull out stuff hiding in my Google docs. Oh wait, it's me, that will never happen. :P

_**Trek Fic: No Cloud Was In the Sky (Pike/McCoy, NC-17)**_  
 **Title:** No Cloud Was In the Sky (Part 13 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17 lite  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** around 6200  
 **Summary:** The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike - the aftermath of Len's descent into angst. Ironical title is ironical. :p  
 **Authors' Notes:** From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) (the loud one): Let me use my soapbox here to once again pimp [](http://pikemccoy.livejournal.com/profile)[**pikemccoy**](http://pikemccoy.livejournal.com/). GO JOIN, BBs! From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) (the quiet one): Oh sure, create a community where I might be tempted to pull out stuff hiding in my Google docs. Oh wait, it's me, that will never happen. :P

  


  
To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Len,

I priority commed Jim. He's on his way over. I tried comming you and then our apartment and didn't get an answer. I'm worried about you.

Of course I still love you. What's past is past, Len. You need to learn to let it go before it destroys not only you, but us too.

It Does. Not. Matter. We all say things we don't mean at times, even if there is some truth to them. You deserve so much more than you think. And whether I give you absolution or not -- that won't mean anything until you give it to yourself.

Talk to Jim. And comm me. I'll let my communication officer know to wake me, even though I probably won't be sleeping now. So please, when you're ready, I want to hear from you, or at least have Jim tell me you're okay.

I love you. We'll get through this together, Len. I'll help you, just like you helped me.

Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

Well, now _I'm_ the one who's embarrassed at having a meltdown. Shit, Chris, I've got my Ph.D. in psychology, I should know better than this. But you're right - it's not easy to be rational when it comes to our own issues. When did you get so wise, darlin'?

We're back on the Enterprise - we departed this morning. I just finished my shift, and I'm going to meet Jim for dinner in a little while, but I wanted to write to you first, both about last night and about your other two comms.

I'm glad Jim finally talked me into vidcomming you last night. I won't lie, I was scared. Scared to see your face, to look in your eyes now that you know what I really am. But - you didn't look at me any differently. You were worried, yeah, maybe a little exasperated, but you didn't hate me. I really didn't expect that. Yeah, I know I've got no perspective when it comes to this, but it honestly took me by surprise. Chris - it was like a gift. No, it was like a whole lifetime of gifts - all my birthdays and holidays all rolled into one. That you've seen me at my worst, that you know me at my worst, and you still love me. I just... I don't know. I still can't quite comprehend it. But I _believe_ it, Chris. You make me believe that you really do love me, despite everything I've done. You even make me believe that maybe one day I'll forgive myself, and that's not something I _ever_ thought I'd say.

It's not going to happen overnight. I wish it could - I wish to god I had a button that I could press to make it all go away, but after centuries of studying human psychology we still have to just do it the old-fashioned way, with time and patience. Patience is not my strong suit, as I'm sure you've realized. But it's worth it, to work on this. For the first time since my life went down the drain, I feel like it's worth it. And that, Chris, is because of you. So thank you for that.

I'm also glad you got Jim to come bust in on me. Damn, I was so drunk by the time he got there I hardly remembered my own name. I don't know how he got in, whether you gave him the door code or he just hacked in, or hell, if he shot the lock with a phaser. Anyway, he gave me one of my own anti-intoxication hypos, splashed cold water on my face, and made sure I was all right. Then he gave me the mother of all reamings-out for making you worry. And him too, but mostly you. Hell, Chris, you've turned my own best friend against me. Not really - you know I don't mean that. But he really was upset on your behalf.

Well, I got to talking with him about all this shit, why I was so upset, and Chris - he knew all along. I couldn't believe it. I mean, I know I told him about my dad, but not the stuff about Joss and the miscarriage. But I guess I did, one night when I was too drunk to keep my mouth shut, and too drunk to remember what I'd said the next morning. He told me that he'd never referred to it again because he didn't want to intrude - as if that's ever stopped him before - but if he'd known I was torturing myself like this he'd have said something eons ago. So - he's known practically all along, and doesn't hate me, and you know now, and don't hate me. I trust both of you - I trust you both not to bullshit me, not to tell me what I want to hear, so if you both say that I shouldn't hate myself for what I did, maybe you're right. Still gonna take time to get there, but I'm working on it. I'm trying. I hope that's enough for now, Chris. I don't know what I'd do if I screwed things up with you over this.

All right, so, next uncomfortable topic - Commander Sato. Chris, I trust you. Honestly, I do. I don't trust her a lick, but that doesn't matter, because it takes two to tango. The only thing I ask is that you continue to be up-front with me. I mean, if she makes a move on you, or does things to try to get you upset at me, or whatever - I'd rather know about it than be imagining worst-case scenarios of what she's up to. I know she's a strategist and I'm not, but Chris, you're the best strategist alive today. That's Jim's assessment, and he'd know. So if you're on top of what she's doing, and you're keeping me informed... that's all I need. Does that sound reasonable?

Let's see, what else... Oh, your counselor wanting to talk to Jim. Yeah, I mean, it's fine by me, and I'm sure Jim will agree too, although I'm not quite sure what therapeutic value it would have. Still, _she's_ your therapist and I'm not, so even though it goes against the grain for me, I'll try not to second-guess her treatment methods. I'll talk to Jim about it at dinner tonight and let you know what he says.

On what you said about Jim - about him feeling things deeply, and using his bravado to keep people from seeing it - yeah, I know. Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on him. It's what I've always done. And I can tell you right now, he's going to be keeping a closer eye on me from now on, and I'm not sure if that's a blessing or a curse.

About your former first officer, the one you were in love with and who died - I'm sorry, Chris. I don't know if I've said that before, but I really am. If you ever want to talk about her, you know I'm here. And with your marriage - I know you've said that it didn't upset you that much, when it ended, but it can't have been easy, and since I've been there and done that, well, I'm not gonna judge. So if you ever want to talk about that either, that's okay too.

I do appreciate the reassurance about appearance, that it wouldn't matter if we could never have sex again, or if I lost my looks (and I'll have you know that I've been staring at the screen for at least two minutes because my fingers are itching to put some disclaimer about my looks not being all that great to start with, but I'm not going to do that). I hope you know that the same is true for me, about you. And if it's the fact that you were in a chair that let us get to know each other enough so that I wasn't another in a long line of brief flings, then Chris, I've got to be glad that you were in that chair. It feels selfish of me, and I hope you know that I don't mean I would ever wish that pain on you, or everything you had to go through, but anything that got us together is a good thing in my book.

Your grandmother sounds like my mama, in believing that everything happens for a reason. I don't know, Chris. I'm not a religious man, and I don't believe in fate. I believe the universe is a pretty random place. But hell, Chris, if there's no purpose or plan behind it, to me that just makes it even more amazing that out of all the paths we could have taken, all the choices we could have made, we made the ones that led us to each other. Probably Jim would tell me that there's a billion different alternate universes and in the other ones, I'm not with you, or I never even joined Starfleet, or hell, I don't know, I'm involved with Spock or something equally revolting. Maybe he's even right. If so, I feel bad for all those other Leonard McCoys, I honestly do. They don't know what they're missing, and that's the saddest thing of all. But for me - Chris, this is the only universe that I'd want to live in, and I will never stop being grateful that in this universe, we found each other.

I'm glad that you liked me taking care of you on your birthday. I know it made you a little uncomfortable, and trust me, it's not like I'm going to wait on you hand and foot on a daily basis, but once in a while I do enjoy indulging my partner a little bit in that way, so you're just going to have to get used to it. I certainly don't expect reciprocation - I mean, you can if you want, I'm not gonna complain, but don't feel obligated, if that's not your thing.

Good lord, Chris, the taste of your cock combined with the taste of peaches - god damn, that was incredible. I didn't think I could love peaches any more. And now, every time I taste a peach, it's going to remind me of you, and that lazy morning in your bed when I licked peach juice off you, sucked your cock until I could taste your own juices, and then kissed you so you could taste both flavors in my mouth. I'm craving peaches, and you, just thinking about that. When we go to Georgia this summer, we'll have to pick some from the trees on my family property. I've never found any peaches quite as sweet as the ones from that orchard. I'd like to find out how they taste on your skin, out in the open air under the Georgia sky.

I'd also like to try out the jacuzzi tub in your quarters. I'm glad you're enjoying it, and although I really believe it's medically warranted, I'll admit that when I convinced your med team to get that installed for you, I had ulterior motives - I figured at some point I'd be visiting you onboard and thought we could enjoy it together.

God, yes, I liked your singing. Don't tell me you couldn't tell, given my enthusiastic demonstration of appreciation. If by some bizarre chance, there's ever a time in the future when I don't seem to be in the mood for sex, I hope you know all you'll ever have to do is pull out that guitar and play and sing a few bars, and I'll be panting at your feet. Probably shouldn't tell you that, but hell, as I said, tactics have never been my strong suit. But anyway, yeah, I'd love it if you'd play again for me next time we're together. And if you ever do get together with some of your former bandmates and play a gig - well, you'll probably end up having quickie bathroom sex like you used to with that groupie of yours, because I won't be able to wait until we're home.

I'm glad - more than glad, actually, that you liked my idea about the ring. I was a little nervous, didn't know if I was presuming too much. I've got the main part of the crystal in my quarters, on my nightstand so it's the first thing I see in the morning and the last thing I see at night. But I've already gotten so used to having that ring on my hand, to being able to look down and know how you're doing at any given moment, that I can't quite picture how I lived without that. I'd really like to know that you were doing the same thing, watching over me all the time. So I'll attach the information about the jeweler to this email. I told her you might be stopping by to get a ring made, so if you tell her you're my partner, she's got on file all the information about the ring I got - you can get one that's the same style as mine if you want, or choose a different setting. God, it makes me so ridiculously happy just thinking about that.

Well, darlin', it's getting late and I've got to meet Jim in the mess before he sends out a search party - I think he's going to be paranoid about me for a few weeks.

I'll be thinking of you tonight, watching your crystal until I fall asleep. It won't be as good as being in your arms, or being in our bed even when you're not there, but just knowing that you're out there, and that you love me - it brings me peace, Chris, peace I never thought I'd have again.

Yours, always,  
Len

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

First of all, I was so relieved to see your face on the vidcomm. I owe Jim a drink next time I see him. That was scary as hell, and I'd never felt more helpless. If Jim hadn't commed me right away when he got there -- You were still half passed out drunk -- I swear I was about ready to turn the Exeter around and get there at maximum warp. I was still pacing my quarters until you vidcommed me, even though Jim told me you were okay. Jesus, Len. We are going to give each other heart attacks at this rate. This makes us even, all right?

I didn't have to give Jim the door code. I started to, but he yelled back at me while he was throwing clothes on that he knew it from hearing you code it in when you moved stuff in to our apartment. You know Jim. It's a good thing that kid is on our side. Although I'm sure it would have only taken him a few seconds to hack it anyway. Remind me to change that next time we're back -- Oh never mind. Like it matters with him.

You have nothing to be embarrassed about, Len. And you're right, it's not going to go away overnight. I'm still struggling with my issues, but compared to how weighed down I felt a year ago, it's like night and day. As you know, patience wasn't my strong suit either, but take it from me. Keep talking about it like I have and in a year you'll feel the same way. You know this, and I know hearing it from other people helps a lot. Talk to Jim. Talk to me. Write me about it if it's easier. Just -- You have to let it go. I know it's not easy, but you're a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for.

I never thought I'd say this, but let Jim take care of you for awhile. That kid was scared to death. I literally saw the blood drain from his face when I told him what was going on. Just let him do whatever he thinks he needs to do to help. I think he feels guilty as hell, too, that you have been torturing yourself all this time. And you and I both know he would never use anything like that against you. Give the kid some credit, Len, and a little affection might be good too. I know you tease him to show your love -- And even though he knows that too, it wouldn't hurt him to hear it from you more often. Lord knows he certainly didn't get any growing up.

Jesus Christ. Look at me being all mature and not acting like that ridiculous jealous person I was before. And speaking of that, I really don't know what to say to make you feel better about Commander Sato. But I promise I will tell you _everything_. Right now, there is nothing to tell. She's been the epitome of professional, Len. And I honestly don't foresee any problems, okay, honey?

Now, don't get upset, because I swear I didn't breach your confidence. But I did some research, and then I asked Philip some questions about your father's illness. And I _know_ you probably know this, but Len, your father was too far gone to be saved by the cure. It only worked on patients who had been symptomatic for less than six months, and it didn't even work on all of them. Your father had been suffering for well over a year. I will be honest here, I have always believed that life should end naturally, but I honestly can't say I wouldn't have done the same thing in your shoes. If it had been my father? Or even my grandfather. He was 102 when he passed, and luckily it was peacefully in his sleep. But if he had been suffering like yours? God, Len, I watched some vids of people afflicted and -- You did the right thing. I know it, Jim knows it, and I'm sure you know it, deep down. You did what _he_ wanted. You were a good son. Anyone in your life that thought otherwise can go fuck themselves.

I'm not going to bring up the issue of the miscarriage or whether or not you deserve to be a father unless you want me to. I told you I'd let that subject drop, but if you want to talk about it -- just say the word. You know how I feel, and frankly, I don't think I've ever known anyone who deserves to be a father more than you do. I think you'd be an amazing father, Len. I really do.

I don't know why Dr. Elliott wants to talk to Jim, to be honest. She simply told me it would help her help me if she knew all the parties involved, especially the one that drove me to her in the first place. She thinks you are amazing, by the way, in case you didn't get that impression when she met with you separately and then in a session with me while we were home. She's helped me a lot though, and Dr. Rossen was right on the nose to refer me to her even though I thought she was crazy doing so. Speaking of Dr. Rossen, it might not be a bad idea for you to seek some professional help too. Not necessarily her, but you know a lot of people, Len. And like you told me, you're just a moron if you don't. And that's all I'll say on that, honey.

Right now, I think I'll save talking about Robin (my ex first officer) and Lisa (my ex-wife) for another time. I'm tired since someone kept me up last night, and it wasn't for the _usual_ reasons. Just saying.

Religion. Another issue we haven't really discussed. I grew up going to church. It was important to my family. I suppose I like the idea of knowing that there is a higher being out there -- I do find comfort in prayer, Len. With as many things as I've seen -- In all the places I've been -- I find it hard to believe that there isn't some divine influence in play. It's one of those things that can't be proven or disproven. I certainly am not one deny anyone whatever they may believe or not believe, though. Religions have torn our own world and other worlds apart because of that. So it's not an issue to me that you don't believe in God. I hope it's not that I do.

Well, I'm nodding off here at my console, so I'm going to go get some sleep. I know you'll be too far away soon to be able to vidcomm with, but you should still be within range tomorrow if I use my priority clearance. I'll try to catch you after your shift so we can talk more.

I'll write more, but it might be a few days. We're going down to the surface of Kaanae in two days to open diplomatic channels with their two ruling parties. Might be a little hostile with one of them. Or do you not want me to tell you these things? For the record, I'd rather know what you're up to. I think both of our minds make up worst-case scenarios. I usually find reality isn't quite as scary.

I love you. I'll be dreaming of us together, wrapped in each other's arms.

Always yours, and don't forget that,  
Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

It was good to see your face again last night. I know we'll be out of vidcomm range for a while, so I'm really glad we got that one last talk. Seeing your face, hearing your voice - it soothes me, Chris. Grounds me. I've never felt that way before, and it's goddamn addictive. It was all I could do not to put my hand on the screen, just to pretend that I was touching your skin despite the light years between us. I'm starting to get an inkling of how hard these years apart are going to be.

Anyway, enough of that. I had to laugh when I saw that you'd written that with my latest bit of idiocy, we're even now. I swear, you and Jim with your compulsive score-keeping. It's not a competition, darlin'. I will try not to worry you again, and I know you're trying to do the same for me, but I'm not keeping score - if you need me a dozen times in a row then I'll be there, and I'm hoping you feel the same.

Dear lord, I purely hate having my own advice thrown back at me, especially when I know it's true. Yeah, I should find someone to talk to. A counselor, I mean. It's going to be a little difficult to do when we're out on deep-space exploration, out of vidcomm range of earth, and obviously there's no one on board since I'm the de facto counselor around here - and isn't _that_ a scary thought. But I'll give it some thought and try to get up the nerve to go see someone when we're back planetside. Physician, heal thyself, huh?

You want me to let Jim take care of me? That's frightening on so many levels I'm not even sure I can count them all. Good god, Chris, he's decided to camp out on the couch in my quarters so he can watch over me or some damn thing. It's going to drive me batshit insane before long, not least because I can't watch any of our holovids or jerk off while he's here. He knows exactly what his presence is doing - or rather, what it's stopping me from doing - and it's amusing the hell out of him, even though he and I know the real reason he's staying with me is because he's still worried about me. And yeah, I tease him because I love him; he knows that as well as you do. I'll try to show it more, but Chris, if I do that too much, it's likely to freak him out even more than that vidcomm from you the other night did. It's just not how we communicate. I am glad, though, that the jealousy hasn't been bothering you. In case I don't say this enough, Chris, you're the love of my life. You're the one. Jim's my best friend, yeah. But you - there's no way anyone could ever replace you. As you said - you're my home, and I'd never want another.

About my dad, and whether his condition was too far advanced to be curable - I think it's just one of those unknowns I'll have to live with. I know that the cure they discovered hadn't worked on people whose disease was as far advanced as my father's. It's just - maybe it's arrogant, and maybe it's false, but I can't help but feel that if I'd known, I'd have been able to do something - work with the cure, adapt it somehow, to help him. But I do know that going over those same what-ifs again and again isn't healthy, and it isn't productive, and so I'm going to try to let it go.

Dr. Elliott thinks I'm amazing, huh? Well, that's always nice to hear, but I hope you know that your opinion is the only one I'm concerned with. I will say that it was good to get a chance to talk to her, and to share some of what I'm feeling about you. I can't even describe it, Chris, the richness that you've brought to my life.

As to religion - yeah, I was brought up as a church-goer too. My family went to the First Methodist Church in town, every week like clockwork. Mostly on account of my mama, who, like I said, was a believer. My daddy went mostly to make her happy. I used to believe, but somewhere along the line I stopped. But Chris, of course it's not a problem for me that you do believe. You're too intelligent a man to subscribe to some knee-jerk, intolerant brand of nonsense that passes for godliness, and that's the only kind of religion that really irks me. Other than that - I'm a firm believer in whatever it takes to get you through the night. So if I can't have _you_ for that purpose, I'll take hard science and a glass of good bourbon. You can do the believing and praying for both of us, darlin'.

I definitely want to hear about Kaanae, and I'd absolutely rather hear about what's going on than be left with my imagination, which as we both know can be a fairly dark and disturbing place.

I swear the orders that Jim gets from Starfleet must say something like "Go wherever the hell you feel like going, get in a boatload of trouble and get out again by the skin of your teeth, and find a new alien woman to sleep with every week." As I said, for now we've been sent to do some deep-space exploration, charting of unexplored systems. So who knows what we'll encounter. We're just about at the edge of Federation space - tomorrow we should be out in the great unknown. Makes me nervous, but Jim couldn't be happier. Crazy kid.

And on that note, I'd better get some sleep so I can deal with Jim and his goddamned enthusiasm tomorrow without wanting to kill him.

First, though - I see your crystal's gone purple, and luckily Jim's on gamma right now, so I'm going to get in bed and bring myself off, imagining you doing the same.

I love you, Chris, more than I know how to say.

Yours always,  
Len

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

God, I'm sorry it's been almost two weeks since I've had time to write a real comm other than the two short ones I sent just to let you know I was alive and well. And as far away as you are, it will probably be another week until you get this. So Happy Thanksgiving. It will probably be over by the time you get this. I am extraordinarily lucky this year, to have you, Len. That is what I am most thankful for.

Now, on that subject, I want to mention something about our last vidcomm. I didn't get to mention it at the time, and obviously I wasn't looking the first time when I was so worried about you -- But the ring, Len. It's beautiful. And to know you are wearing in some ways, part of me -- God, the sappy old man is coming out again. I will be getting to Earth in June, about a week before the Enterprise, I think, and I will certainly be heading to the jeweler first thing. And the style and setting is perfect, Len. Really. I couldn't have picked anything better out myself. Just -- thanks, Len. Thank you.

Speaking of June. We're going to be busier than what we already had tentatively planned. Philip's oldest son Matthew, is getting married! He proposed to his college sweetheart a week ago and she accepted. They are going to plan a June wedding to be held after the Exeter gets back, so the father (and godfather) of the groom can attend. I'm pretty sure the Enterprise will be back by then as well, so consider yourself invited, of course. Philip is so excited he's about to burst. And it seems to have done wonders for him and Allen, which is a relief. I was really worried for awhile that the split would be permanent, but for now, they are working on their issues.

So, Kaanae. Interesting culture, Len. I've seen some doozies after over thirty-five years in the black. This one, though, was pretty unusual. It also explains why things were a little 'hostile' last time Starfleet made contact. I mentioned there were two ruling parties? Well, it's a co-rule - they share power. But this planet has two separate continents, one only slightly bigger than the other. And the women all live on one continent. And on the other, the men. Completely humanoid in every way, but yes, separated by gender. They don't believe in, or I suppose I should say, they don't practice co-habitation or marriage/joining with the opposite sex. They do practice marriage, but only to the same sex. They have families, but four times a year, the 'fertile' women go into what we would call heat, and the men the same. There are grand temples on the coasts that are really a sight to see. There are huge halls with food and drink where they mingle and find someone who pleases them, and then there are other rooms with hundreds of beds, where they bring their chosen partner and find an empty bed and copulate. Almost like an orgy, at least in the fact that hundreds of people are having intercourse in the same room. But they only mate with the one person the entire two-week period.

So I guess when a previous ship beamed down, they were in the middle of their 'season' and the crew beamed down near one of these temples. And several of the crew, were, well let's just say 'attacked' and it was misinterpreted on all sides, and I think you get the idea.

Luckily for us, when the Exeter's away team beamed down this time, it was _not_ mating season. And we met with both ruling families and they will be joining the Federation. They have warp capacity, but they choose not to leave their world. I can understand why in some ways - it's beautiful. They have a unique mineral in their oceans that seems to be able to be harvested for medicinal purposes and, believe or not, fuel their interplanetary transportation.

But yeah. Interesting society. The female children of course always stay with their mothers, but the males are separated from their mothers when they are five and reunited with their biological fathers, whom they have never met. Each woman bears four children in her lifetime. And they are expected to marry and begin mating as soon as they become fertile for the first time. But until the child they are raising is five, they don't mate again with the opposite sex. Even the women who bear girls seem to go fertile again within a 'season' of their little girl turning five. Philip has just been beside himself studying their reproductive cycles. Their lifespan seems to be unusual too; the men die naturally in their sleep between fifty and fifty-five, which is why the men don't procreate after forty. And the women live slightly longer, at fifty-five to sixty.

Starfleet researchers and geneticists are going to have a field day with the data we are bringing back. Because these people are all just amazing, Len. Beautiful women, and the men all good-looking too. We'll be going back in a month or so to finalize their joining the Federation. They were about two weeks from their 'season' when we landed, so we only had a week to 'safely' meet with them and study their planet.

Which brings up a subject we've never discussed. I'm not even sure how to approach it, but here goes nothing. There are times, Len, that as an officer of Starfleet, that in the line of duty -- Well, things happen. I'm not going to lie and say it hasn't happened to me. Fortunately, on all but one of the incidents, I was not in a relationship or married. Or I was with Robin who completely understood. But one was during my marriage, though it was a situation my wife and I had discussed at length in advance. So it wasn't an issue in the demise of my marriage, nor did I consider it 'cheating'. It was part of their culture for the represented Starfleet leader to have relations with their leader to seal the deal. And I did. I'm not ashamed. It's something you know might happen the moment you chose the command track. You may think that Jim is just going and sleeping with every alien or ambassador or planetary leader -- Well, sometimes that's what it takes.

So I thought we should discuss this. And I'm guessing - in fact I _know_ \- this is going to be upsetting to you. And I'm sorry I didn't bring this up sooner. When we started seeing each other, it didn't seem like it mattered as I wasn't sure I'd ever be getting out of the chair, let alone commanding a ship again. But this planet reminded me of that. And NO, nothing happened, and nothing will happen on Kaanae, because in their society, it's a choice, and I declined, which they respect when someone is partnered. But I can tell you, not all societies and cultures are the same way and it's sometimes considered an offense to decline. You know I would never do anything to purposely hurt you, Len. But if this situation arises during my command, I will comply with my sworn duty. Regretfully to you, of course. If it makes you feel _any_ better, it's not something I would have regretted at all in the past.

Now, onto better subjects. I have to admit that I was laughing at your frustration at Jim sleeping on your couch. Honestly, I haven't been watching the holovids we've made lately. One, was I was so busy with the mission, and two, I guess I want to savor them. It's not like I can't lie back in bed and get off easily just thinking about you. So I guess what I'm saying is that sometimes I watch them more just to _see_ you and hear your voice. Not that I don't get off on them, but I just thought you should know that in case you thought you'd hooked up with a porn addict. It's just you, Len. It's always you.

Now, I'm going to turn in. We are escorting a couple of freighters from the edge of the system to the Starbase tomorrow. Despite our presence, the pirates have been having a field day with traders coming in from the Antina sector.

I love you, Len. I'm forever yours too.

Chris

  



	14. Pepper and Vinegar Besides (Part 14 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike. So how _does_ Len react to Chris saying that he might have to have sex in the line of duty? Hmmmm. I'm thinking: NOT VERY WELL.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) (the loud one): Long part is LONG. We thought about splitting it, but out of ~~fear for our lives~~ ~~concern that we're running out of titles~~ the kindness of our hearts, we decided to give you the whole thing at once. We're so magnanimous. ♥ ;) From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/)**mga1999** (the quiet one): Well, I actually thought it would be fun to split it up and wait a week. *evil laugh*

_**Trek Fic: Pepper and Vinegar Besides (Pike/McCoy, R)**_  
 **Title:** Pepper and Vinegar Besides (Part 14 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** R-ish  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** Angst ahoy!  
 **Word Count:** around 9000  
 **Summary:** The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike. So how _does_ Len react to Chris saying that he might have to have sex in the line of duty? Hmmmm. I'm thinking: NOT VERY WELL.  
 **Authors' Notes:** From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) (the loud one): Long part is LONG. We thought about splitting it, but out of ~~fear for our lives~~ ~~concern that we're running out of titles~~ the kindness of our hearts, we decided to give you the whole thing at once. We're so magnanimous. ♥ ;) From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) (the quiet one): Well, I actually thought it would be fun to split it up and wait a week. *evil laugh*

  


To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

Well, it's almost Christmas now, and I've gotta say I'm not in a very goddamn jolly mood after getting your last comm, almost two weeks ago now. I guess I should be grateful for your mission to Kaanae for bringing up this subject before you actually had to "do your duty" and screw around on me.

First, let me say that this is probably about the twentieth version of this comm. I deleted the first nineteen or so because they probably would've set your console on fire, and possibly your hair as well. It'd be a goddamn understatement to say that I was not pleased to get your last comm. In fact, Jim was here in my quarters when I read it and I think his ears are _still_ ringing from the cursing I did that day.

So before you accuse me of going off half-cocked and responding irrationally - Chris, this _is_ my rational response. This is as goddamned rational as I'm going to get on this subject.

No, it is _not_ all right with me if you fuck some alien king or queen in order to seal a treaty. Of _course_ I consider it cheating, and I'm sorry, but I'm not going to be as "understanding" as your exes apparently were. You're _mine_ , Chris, and I've already told you I don't share. We made a commitment to each other, and that does not include fucking other people when political expediency demands it.

As far as I'm concerned, you can tell whoever it is that wants to fuck you that you're very sorry to have to disrespect their culture, but in _your_ culture, vows of fidelity are taken very seriously and you're sure they'll understand that you can't hurt your partner that way. Then let 'em fuck Sato, since you said she's got the Jim Kirk-sized libido.

Thanks, by the way, for telling me that we needed to have a "discussion" about this and then proceeding to inform me of your unilateral decision. I really appreciated that touch. Oh, and let me also tell you how goddamn happy I was to know that you'd cheat on me "regretfully" and that you _wouldn't_ have regretted it with any of your prior partners. Can you tell how damn honored and grateful I am that you would have a moment of "regret" after ripping my heart out and stomping on it?

I'll tell you something, Chris. If this _had_ come up earlier in our relationship, and you'd said what you said in that comm? I would've ended it. I would've walked away from you without a backward glance and counted myself lucky to have escaped before I got in too deep. Now it's too late, and I'm already in too deep to just walk away so easily. Because apparently unlike you, I honor my commitments, Chris. I fight for them tooth and nail and I look for _any_ possible way I can to make them work. I don't just throw off a glib line about sworn duty and stab my partner in the back.

In fact, let's talk about that sworn duty. I know you take your duty to Starfleet seriously. So do I. But Chris, my personal loyalties come first. Always have, always will. That means if I had to sacrifice my career for your sake, I'd do it and never count the cost. And you know what, Chris? You're goddamned _lucky_ that I feel that way because if I didn't, I'd never have smuggled Jim onto the Enterprise, and you'd be dead and the entire Earth would be a smoking field of rubble.

So I want the same consideration from you. I want your loyalty to me, to _us_ , to come before your goddamn duty to Starfleet. There's one exception I'll make: if it's a matter of life and death, yours or someone else's, then do what you have to do.

But I want you to swear to me your word of honor that you will do _everything_ in your power to avoid that situation, of having to have sex with someone who isn't me. Your word, Chris. I deserve that much from you. And I know that when you swear you'll do everything in your power to avoid it, then it damn well _isn't_ going to happen.

When I talked to Jim about this, he told me that it's something everyone in command knows they might have to do, just like everyone in command knows that they might have to sacrifice their own life for their crew, the way his father did. But that doesn't mean that most captains will ever actually face that situation, and it certainly isn't something that's considered a run-of-the-mill part of a captain's duties. He's faced situations like this a couple of times, where an alien diplomat or leader requested sexual relations with him or Spock. The time a leader requested to have sex with him, it was a male and Jim would've done it if he'd had to, but he didn't want to, so he found some archaic regulation in their books that said that the ritual of binding or whatever the hell they called it couldn't be enforced on non-residents, and as someone from another world, he was pretty clearly a non-resident. The next time, apparently some alien princess took a shine to Spock and decided to make it a condition of negotiations that he sleep with her. Well, Jim told her that Spock was in a committed relationship, that our culture takes those things very seriously, and that if she didn't like it, she could take the treaty and her dilithium mines and shove them up her ass. She caved, and he got the treaty anyway, without Spock having to cheat on Lt. Uhura.

What I'm saying, Chris, is that Jim doesn't believe in no-win situations. He just refuses to accept any outcome that he doesn't like, and I've never seen it fail yet. I know that you're every bit as good a strategist as he is, so this shouldn't be beyond your ability.

Well I guess that's about all I have to say about it for now, though I reserve the right to yell at you some more. I don't really feel like chit-chatting about other things right now, either. Goddamnit, Chris. You keep saying you're mine, and if you are, then prove it to me. Promise me you'll do everything in your power to avoid having sex with anyone else, and then when it comes down to it, do even more than that to avoid it. You're the one who keeps telling me that I'm worthy and deserving. So Chris, it comes down to this - I deserve your faithfulness. You know you'll always have mine.

Len

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Len,

If you honestly think so little of me, to really believe what you wrote, then I don't even know what to say. You know I am not as articulate as you are. I don't have fancy doctorates like you do. I'm just a simple man who has never had a relationship like this and I'm doing the best that I know how to. You _know_ this. And I'm working on it -- Fuck Len, I'm seeing a marriage counselor twice a week to try to figure this out. I'm still talking to Dr. Rossen and dealing with my PTSD. What do you want from me? I gave you my word already more times than I can count. And if you think that I'm such an idiot, that I wouldn't do everything in my power, and I mean _everything_ so that it wouldn't happen. Fuck. I guess you just really don't know me at all. I'm so glad you have Jim to point out how brilliant he is and what an absolute idiot I must be. I really don't know how I've been a Starfleet Captain for almost twenty-five years and survived. Must be complete luck.

So tell me. What good would it do to promise you _anything_? I'm obviously not intelligent enough to even know what I'm promising. I have been completely honest with you at every turn. I'm sorry you can't handle my bluntness. Here I thought I was doing the right thing by telling you. I'm sorry I don't have the fancy words that might have made a difference. Sure, I've screwed up and I'm going to do a lot of that. All I was trying to do was tell you the truth. I could have said nothing. It will probably never even matter. In my thirty-seven years, it's come up four times, Len. _Four_.

So yeah. Merry Fucking Christmas. And again, if you truly think so little of me, I guess there really isn't anything else I can say to you -- Except goodbye, since that seems to be what you want.

Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

What the hell? Seriously, what the _hell_?

What exactly in my last comm gave you the impression that I wanted to call it quits? All I said, over and over, was that I would fight for us tooth and nail and that I wanted you - _expected_ you - to do the same. You said you'd already given me your word more times than you can count, but Chris, you also agreed that we've never discussed this issue before, so you'll pardon me for thinking that maybe the promises we'd exchanged didn't cover this particular situation.

And what on earth is this horseshit about you being a simple man and not articulate and you not having fancy degrees like me? And me thinking that you're stupid? When have I ever implied that you're stupid, Chris, or any less intelligent or educated than I am? You're a goddamned Starfleet Admiral. You've handled first contact with over a dozen new races and negotiated at least twice that many mutual aid pacts. I could go on, but you know your own résumé. Of _course_ you're articulate and intelligent. Haven't I said that you're the finest strategist alive? And that if you gave me your word that you'd do everything in your power to avoid having to screw anyone else, I could rest easy because then I'd know that it would never happen? What about any of that makes you think that I think you're stupid or ignorant, Chris?

Then you said I can't handle your bluntness - Chris, that's bullshit and you know it. We've both been blunt and honest from the beginning, and it's been a goddamned relief. You should go back and read the comm you sent me that started this whole thing, then maybe you'll understand why I reacted the way I did. Or better yet, let me demonstrate. I don't know if this'll make things better or worse, but here goes:

There are times, Chris, that as an officer of Starfleet, that in the line of duty - well, things happen. Sometimes I have to have sex with Jim in front of a bunch of aliens who want to witness human sexuality in action. I'm not going to lie and say it hasn't happened to me. Fortunately, on all but one of the incidents, I was not in a relationship or married. Or I was with someone who completely understood. But one was during my marriage, and my wife and I had discussed the possibility at length in advance. And it wasn't an issue in the demise of my marriage, nor did I consider it 'cheating'. It was part of their culture for the representative Starfleet leader to have sex with his doctor in order to demonstrate appreciation for their god of healing. And I did. I'm not ashamed; it's something you know might happen the moment you chose the medical track. You may think that Jim and I are just screwing for fun - well, sometimes that's what it takes.

So I thought we should discuss this. And I'm guessing - in fact, I know - this is going to be upsetting to you. And I'm sorry I didn't bring this up sooner. But I can tell you, not all societies and cultures offer the freedom of choosing whether I have sex with Jim, and it's considered an offense to decline. You know I would never do anything to purposely hurt you, Chris. But if this situation arises during my tenure at Starfleet, I will comply with my sworn duty and let Jim fuck me in front of an audience rather than risk giving offense to an alien culture. Regretfully to you, of course. If it makes you feel any better, it's not something I would have regretted at all in the past.

How's that feel, Chris? Are you reassured of my love and loyalty? Are you resting easy knowing that I'm going to do everything in my power to avoid the situation I've described? Those are _your_ words, Chris, almost exactly. Tell me how I was supposed to somehow _know_ that you were going to even _try_ to get out of this "duty" to have sex with other people. Because to me - and here maybe _I'm_ the ignorant idiot - it reads to me like you're pretty damn cheerful about doing your duty and I'm expected to just shut up and smile about it because it's for the greater goddamn good.

Pretty much from the beginning, I've felt like you thought I was some backwoods hick who insisted on that outdated monogamy business, while you were the sophisticated one who was indulging my whim because clearly I was too ignorant to appreciate the benefits of an open relationship. That comm from you only reinforced that feeling. So tell me what I'm doing wrong here. I've been up-front and honest from the very beginning that I don't want an open relationship. I'm sorry if you think that's stupid.

Chris - when you make love to me, you reveal so much. Probably more than you know. Your breathing hitches when I touch a spot that makes you feel particularly good, like the small of your back. Your skin flushes wherever I touch it with my lips or tongue. The noises you make, and the words you use - Chris, I know I've got a filthy mouth, but you've got a _sweet_ mouth. I don't even think you realize half the things you say sometimes - you call me your baby, your sweetheart, you say nothing's ever felt this good and nothing ever will again. You beg me to never stop touching you, and you say you'll die if I ever leave. When I first enter you, you make this noise - it's almost like a sob, and you clutch me so tight that your fingers leave bruises on me. And when _you_ fuck _me_ , your eyes get so dark, so possessive it's almost like I could drown in them. When you're really putting your back into it, and you break into a sweat, the fine hairs around your face curl and I swear to god you look like a goddamned angel. And the look on your face when you come - Chris, it's like nothing I've ever seen before. It's like holy rapture and carnal sin all at the same time.

Those things are _intimate_ , Chris. I don't know if you're like that when you're with anyone else, and I don't particularly want to know. All I know is that all of those things, how you are when you come undone in ecstasy - those things are _mine_ now.

So here's the bottom line. Maybe I'm being stupid and paranoid, but I want your word. I want your word that you will do everything in your power to avoid a situation where you have to be sexually intimate with anyone else. I give you mine.

There it is, darlin'. I can't be any plainer than that, and I don't think I'm asking too much. It's up to you now.

Yours,  
Len

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Len,

I've been trying to write this letter for days -- I just figure, why bother. Sure, I can give you the words you want to hear, but do they even matter anymore, Len? You've said time and time again that you trust me, but your reaction and your continued actions prove otherwise. You _don't_ trust me, Len. You want the words? Fine. I will do everything I can, just like I would have before you gutted me with your assumption that I wouldn't. I've told you more times than I can count, that I cannot articulate things that are difficult for me well. I know that. I've told you that. I can command, Len. I obviously cannot express myself in ways that a partner wants to hear.

So tell me this. How am I supposed to have faith in a relationship when I feel like you don't trust me at all? How do I get that back, Len?

God, I can't do this right now. I'm not sleeping. I'm struggling to get up every day. I'm sitting here crying at my console right now writing this. I'm hurting not just emotionally, but physically. Headaches, back spasms. They're bad, Len. I am barely holding things together right now.

I can't even begin -- I'm just too upset to think about this anymore. I need some time. I just can't deal with this right now. And I'm sure saying that will set you off too since it did the time before when I asked for the same consideration.

Obviously, I can't win.

Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

God damn it, man, what's happening to us? I don't understand how we got from where we were back on earth in October to this. And nothing's even _happened_ , we're just trying to talk about a hypothetical situation that might never even come up. It's all falling apart and I don't know how to stop you from slipping away from me. I can see that you're hurting, Chris. I am too. Your crystal has been flickering between dark gray and dark red pretty much since this whole thing began. I don't think I've seen that dark red color before, but I'm guessing it can't be anything good. Chris, I never meant to hurt you, and I know you didn't mean to hurt me either. So for my part in this, I am sorry, Chris, truly.

I feel like we're speaking two different languages here. I do trust you, Chris. You obviously don't believe me, and I don't know how to prove it to you, but I do. Yeah, I've got issues with trust and with worrying about infidelity. You know that. Yeah, I need a lot of reassurance. My need for reassurance doesn't mean that I don't trust you. Those two things are not linked in my mind. It's like - I don't know, it's like "I love you." I say it to you all the time. I need to hear it from you all the time. The fact that I need to hear the words doesn't mean that I think you _don't_ love me, at all. It just means that I need to hear the words. Maybe you don't, and that's okay, but Chris, this is who I am, and I can't just turn that off like a switch.

You keep saying you don't know how to articulate things except from a command perspective. All right. I'm going to try to step back here. I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt, and assume that you genuinely don't know how your comm hit me, the one that started this whole thing. The thing that hurt me, Chris, was that when I read it, I didn't get from it that you would fight with everything you had to avoid the situation you described. Maybe I should have just known all of that without having to be told. Maybe it goes without saying. But I'm not a mind-reader, and I don't understand how I was supposed to read the words you wrote and understand that you would fight like hell to avoid that situation. Jim tells me that to a Starfleet captain, and to you in particular, integrity and honor are the most important things and I basically spit on that by making the assumption I did.

Fuck, Chris. Maybe I screwed up. All right, I did. I screwed up. But Chris, so did you. Maybe you think you've already said that in a way that I should have understood, but if you have, Chris, I didn't hear it. So talk to me. Can we please set aside the anger and the sarcasm and the words that are designed to draw blood, and instead just try to figure this out?

I don't need fancy words, Chris. Hell, I don't want 'em. I just need to know, without having to assume or guess, what's on your mind; I need reassurance sometimes, and I need to not feel like I'm somehow defective because I _do_ need those things. So can we agree that you aren't always good at communicating things in the way a partner wants to hear, and I'll accept that about you? Can we also agree that sometimes I'm going to need extra reassurance because of your communication style, and that no lack of trust or slur on your honor is implied, and have you accept that about me? It's got to be a give-and-take, Chris. It won't work any other way.

I guess I'll leave it there for now. If you don't know this, I do love you, Chris, more than I've ever loved anyone. I want to be with you. I want this to work. And I'm worried about you, so aside from anything that's going on with us, please take care of yourself, all right?

I'm not a patient man; I've said that before. But if you need some time away from us to think about this - Chris, it'll kill me, but take the time you need. I'll wait for you. Hell, I'll be waiting for you until the day I die.

Still yours, now and always,  
Len

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Len,

I'm not sure I should even be trying to talk to you right now. I wanted to comm you though, before more time passes. I talked Philip into letting me have a PADD, though he's not happy about it. And he said if my vitals change too much, he's going to take it away. So honestly, I'm a little afraid to start talking about anything right now.

Yes, I'm in medical bay right now. I have been for a couple of days. I'm going to assume the dark red you have been seeing all this time on the crystal is the physical pain I've been feeling. It's been going on for awhile, as you've probably noticed. Headaches, the back spasms have been worse than usual, and just flat out back pain. I've also been really fatigued and dizzy at times. I figured that was just from not sleeping and stress. The nightmares have been back tenfold. And the pain, the pain was so bad the other day, I passed out in my quarters. Hit my head on the desk. Got quite a concussion. Luckily, Philip and I had plans to discuss some ship business so when I didn't answer, he used his medical override. I was lucky. I could go on but I know you're going to comm Philip for the details and frankly thinking right now hurts. He's still running tests. I'm still in pain. I feel like shit, Len. In every possible way.

I thank you for your apology, really. But it wasn't needed. I don't know, Len. I can't explain what I've been feeling. I don't know how many ways I can tell you that I'm not good at this stuff. I always seem to screw up no matter what my intentions.

Sorry -- Had to take a break there. My blood pressure was going up and Philip was giving me the glare. What is it with doctors and their glares anyway?

I would never intentionally hurt you, Len. I would rather die first. You just have to _know_ that. Obviously we do speak different languages. I'm fifty-four years old and this is the first real relationship I've had in my life, Len. In the way that it matters more than anything. Yet, I keep screwing up at every turn. I don't know _how_ to talk to you as a partner, as an equal, I guess. I've never had to relate to anyone that way. Never wanted to. I _want_ to, Len. I just honestly don't know anything else. I'm surprised I've gotten this far without you walking away from me. I wouldn't blame you.

Okay, Philip sedated me for awhile and I'm still pretty groggy, so I feel like I should wrap this up, but I'm not sure how. I know we need to talk more about things, but obviously I can't right now. So I'm just going to say I'm _trying_ , Len. I love you -- That doesn't even convey what I feel for you. I'm crying again, and that should tell you a lot because you know I'm not an emotional man in that way at all. I just can't imagine life without you anymore and I'm fucking terrified I won't be able to give you what you need.

Philip says I only have a minute, so I'm just going to say I love you. Thank you for waiting. I'm sorry that you have to. And I'll write you more when I'm able.

Yours,  
Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

Goddammit, I really want to give you a lecture about taking care of yourself and seeking medical help when you need it, not just pushing through the pain. But I know you've got your own CMO who can give you that lecture, and that's not what you need from me right now.

So let me try this instead, see if this helps at all. Chris, I love you. You give me everything I need and, more than that, everything I could ever want. I am not walking away from you, and I don't intend to ever walk away from you. What we have together, it's the best thing I've ever had in my life. Whatever bumps in the road there are - and with us, stubborn and set in our ways as we both are, there's bound to be some - it's worth it.

Chris, you haven't screwed up at every turn. We've both screwed up plenty and we've both done plenty that's right. We're going to make it through this. You take the time you need. I told you I'd wait for you and I meant it. And when you're ready, darlin', I will be waiting for you, and we will figure this thing out, together.

Lord, this sounds hokey, but Chris - you're my soulmate. I may not believe in much, but I honestly believe that. There's no one else for me. There never will be. So please, baby, don't be scared. I'm not going anywhere.

All my love, always,  
Len

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

I'm going to warn you, I'm still under the influence of some pretty heavy drugs, but I was released from medical yesterday after spending a week there. I think you are corresponding with Philip, so you know he's at a loss as to what's causing this. He's pretty sure it has something to do with that damn bug and the lingering damage that couldn't be repaired. Cultures of my spinal fluid still show minute traces of its secretions. Since I'm the only human that has ever survived the damn thing, I guess I'm now a glorified guinea pig for your medical journals. I know I already was before this; I'd read the paper you'd done on my surgery and regeneration on the Enterprise. I just hoped it was over. Evidently not.

He thinks stress might have a lot to do with it. The PTSD has been bad lately, and couple that with the problems we've been having -- As he put it, he's surprised I'm not in a straightjacket in a room with padded walls. But I swear, Len, I wasn't pushing through the pain. Philip knew. I have been on a mild muscle relaxant and non-narcotic painkiller since shortly after the Exeter left. I've tried some new p.t. exercises to help with sitting in the chair all day. Bottom line, it just kept getting worse.

I'm officially off duty a couple more days. Then I get two weeks of light duty. My crew has really shown how great they are, especially my bridge crew, who have stepped up and kept me informed and involved -- And I can't say how important to me that has been. I was pretty despondent the first couple of days, wondering what would happen. And I know this is a touchy subject, but Commander Sato really put me at ease. Even though I was not technically in command anymore, she never made me feel like I wasn't. I don't know how to explain what I mean by that. I suppose it would be like you not being in charge of your medical bay and watching someone else do your job without any consultation.

I may work split shifts for awhile so I can rest in between. Philip thinks it will pass, just like when I had this problem last year. That time wasn't as bad, but it did pass. Meanwhile, he's researching whatever he can find. Which, unfortunately, isn't much.

It's been fairly quiet out here of late. The pirates seemed to have gotten the message that they aren't going to be able to pillage in these parts anymore. Not sure what's going to happen when we leave in April, but we're trying to help some of the regular ships with tactics and plans for evading. I know Starfleet intends to keep a presence out here, which I think is greatly needed, so I'm assuming a smaller battle cruiser will take our place. It should be more than adequate for what we've encountered so far.

So it's 2260. Can't say I enjoyed bringing in the New Year since I was practically in a coma in medical. I suppose when I do something, I do it well. Philip showed me my skull fractures when he put the holo-images in my digital file. Guess my head isn't as hard as I always thought it was.

I know I'm rambling about inconsequential things. I guess I'm still afraid to say anything. But I want to thank you for what you said in your last comm. It did help. More than you will ever know. And I feel especially bad causing all of this since you -- Well, since you are struggling with your own issues. I'm sorry. I know that's not enough, but -- Damn, I'm tearing up again. And Philip has me fitted with a biosensor -- God, I'm a mess. Maybe you should re-think waiting for me. I wouldn't blame you.

I know the Enterprise is scheduled to be at a starbase next month for re-supply before heading out again. Since you'll be in vidcomm range, I was hoping we could have a joint session with Dr. Elliott -- I think we need help sorting out some of these issues. And don't forget, Jim was going to talk to her too. You never did say if he agreed, before all this mess started. Of course I want to talk to you too, but honestly, I think I'm just as scared as you were the night before the Enterprise left. Promise me, Len, that _you_ will talk to someone while you're at the starbase. I know most of them have counselors on staff, or contact someone back home. I'm sure the fact that we are both struggling with our own issues right now isn't helping us -- At least I keep telling myself that.

Fuck, these drugs are about to knock me out again. I love you, Len. And what you said about us being soulmates -- I want to believe you're right. Right now, I think you deserve someone better. Yeah, yeah. I know you are swearing under your breath right now for me saying that -- It's just right now -- It's how I feel.

Yours,  
Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

I heard about your medical problems from Bones, and I wanted to write to see how you're doing. I'm sorry I haven't written much lately. Had some medical issues of my own that gave Bones a few more gray hairs (not that he admits he has them). But we've been busy mapping and exploring this system. Haven't come across any sentient life yet, but we've only found a few planets that support any kind of life.

It was one of those planets where I found out that while the plants were pretty, they also bite. I _swear_ I didn't touch the one that got me. It reached out a vine and wrapped around my wrist and the next thing I know it's five days later and I'm waking up with a red-eyed and haggard CMO hovering over me. He nearly burst into tears when I woke up. That scared me more than what happened to me. Took me a week before I was moving around much and I'm still sore and sick as hell. Guess he had to work night and day to create an antidote to whatever it was that poisoned me. I'm not sure there will ever be a way to repay him for all the times so far he's saved my life.

Mostly, I just wanted you to know that even though I know you and Bones have been having some issues... Well, I didn't want you to think I wasn't writing because of that. It was hard... I mean, I tried to be a neutral party when Bones was so upset. There were times I wanted to lash out at you because he was really hurting. But I also tried to point out to him a few things, without him thinking I was choosing sides. He did accuse me of that once, but he apologized later. For the record though, I _will_ always be on Bones' side. Not that it makes me happy to have to contemplate that.

Well, it's 0200 and I have Alpha shift so I better try to get some sleep or Bones will take me off duty again. I'm worried about you, from what Bones has told me. Don't worry about writing me back. Just take care of yourself. I promise I'll write more and tell you what we're finding out here. And don't worry, Bones is doing okay, considering. I'm keeping an eye on him.

Love,  
Jim

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Len,

I know I just wrote you, but I got a comm from Jim right after. Jesus. I'm sorry you were going through that with everything else. He didn't say much as usual, but what he did say scared the hell out of me and it sounds like he's still not well. What happened? Is he okay? Are _you_ okay?

Fuck, Len. I feel terrible and I'm telling you, Philip is pretty sure that stress is triggering at least some of my problems since I'm back in medical again because the pain was uncontrollable. He's only letting me write you so you can let me know what's going on.

God, I hate that you are out of comm range. I feel helpless.

Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

Thanks for writing when you heard about Jim. He's going to be okay - he'll make a full recovery within a few weeks. Just in time to launch himself into the next disaster, I'm sure.

I didn't see what started it, though Jim swears he was just standing there, doing nothing. We'd just split up and I was analyzing some biosamples with my tricorder and suddenly I heard Jim yelling. Spock was with him, though, and it's a damn good thing he was, because it was only his Vulcan strength and reflexes that let him untangle Jim from the vines that had wrapped around him before it was too late. I've never seen anything like that. Good god, one moment everything was fine and dandy, and then suddenly this innocuous-looking plant was trying to kill Jim, and very nearly succeeding. I know I complain about Spock a lot, and with reason, but he does have his good points, and at least for right now he gets a free pass from me because really, Chris, if he hadn't been there, Jim would be dead on that goddamn planet.

We beamed back up immediately, and Jim collapsed right on the transporter pad. Turns out that damn plant had injected him with some kind of bio-toxin. It wasn't even remotely like anything in the ship's database. Thank god it was relatively slow acting, or I wouldn't have been in time. As it was, I worked day and night for almost five days straight. Nearly used up the ship's stock of stims. Even with that, god, Chris, it was far too close a thing. He was going into multi-system failure by the third day, and by the time I managed to synthesize an antidote, his condition was critical. My heart's racing even now, just remembering it.

Even after I gave him the antidote, for a while I wasn't sure if I'd been in time, if he was going to make it. I was sitting by his bedside, and he looked like he was already dead - I'd've thought he was if not for the bio-sensor readouts. There was a moment - Chris, I hadn't heard from you after my last comm, and I thought I'd lost you. I thought I was going to lose Jim too. I don't know if I can even describe it. It was the worst goddamn moment of my life. Nothing even comes close. I know this sounds melodramatic, but Chris, if I lost both of you at once - I wouldn't survive it. I'm as sure of that as I am of my own name.

So right now - no, I'm not okay. I'm pretty much as far from okay as I've ever been. I don't know what's going on with us, and I don't want to push you, because I know that won't help, but it feels to me like you're giving up, the way you keep saying I shouldn't wait for you, or that you don't deserve me. And I can't help but believe that one of these days, Jim really is going to get himself killed, and nothing I or anyone else does will be able to prevent it.

This is no kind of life, Chris - all I'm doing is existing day to day, hurting like hell and constantly petrified of the worse pain that's sure to come.

I'm pretty much getting out of bed every day only through pure cussedness right now. Everyone on the ship but Jim has been giving me a mile-wide berth, and I don't blame them. Even I can recognize how volatile I am right now. Jim's sticking close, both to keep an eye on me and because I think he feels like his presence, the fact that he's recovering, will help me feel better. It doesn't, Chris. Every day he gets stronger I just think that it's one day closer to when he'll go out and try to get himself killed again. Anytime I've ever tried to talk to him about that, about his suicidal recklessness, his total disregard for his own safety, he laughs it off or brushes it aside like it doesn't matter. I don't know what to do about it, and I'm about at the end of my tether.

I'm tempted to delete all this, because I know that stress is exacerbating your physical problems, and the last thing I want to do is make things worse for you. But we promised each other we'd be honest, and I know that neither of us likes to have things whitewashed, so there it is. That's how I'm doing.

Yeah, Jim agreed to talk to your counselor. And I'm willing to do a joint session with the couples counselor. As for my individual counseling - I know I've got to talk to someone. I know some good people back on earth and I'd be much more comfortable with one of them than with a stranger at a starbase, so I'll send some comms and see if I can arrange a vidcomm session for when we're at that starbase.

Also, I'd like to get Philip to send me all of his treatment notes, test results - your entire file, basically. I know he's a fantastic doctor, and I'm not doubting his skills, but sometimes a second pair of eyes can be useful and I'd like to feel like I'm doing _something_ to help with your medical situation.

In case you'd forgotten with everything going on, Jim's birthday was last week, when he was in sickbay. It's always a tough time for him, because of - well, you know. Normally I try to distract him or keep him busy or at least get him drunk. Obviously neither of us was up for that this year. I let him eat bacon for breakfast, and I got him a piece of chocolate cake in the evening, and stayed with him all day, since I wasn't on duty. I know I was pretty poor company, though. We played chess a couple times and he kicked my ass, like usual. Mostly we just hung out quietly.

I guess there's just one last thing. I feel stupid even writing this because I _know_ , rationally, that it doesn't make any goddamned sense. But I can't help but feel like... I don't know, as soon as I told you about the stuff with my dad and Joss and the miscarriage, everything went to hell almost immediately. I don't even believe in karma, but it feels like that. Like the universe gave me happiness just to snatch it away as some kind of cosmic punishment for what I did. And now I can hear _you_ swearing under your breath at _me_. Like I said, I _know_ it's idiotic. It's just what I'm feeling.

It's time for me to get to bed now. I've been using increasingly strong doses of sleeping meds just so I can get a few hours each night. The withdrawal's going to be a bitch, but if I wasn't taking the meds I'd either be drinking myself to unconsciousness every night, or I just wouldn't be sleeping at all.

Sorry, now _I'm_ rambling about inconsequential things.

Love,  
Len

To: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Jim,

I know you told me not to write you back, but I'm doing a little better today -- We need to talk. I've attached something to this. It's the last comm I got from Len. And I want you to read it _right_ now before you read any further.

Go on. Do it.

_That_ is what you are doing to your best friend every time you pull some reckless stunt. Granted, this time may not have been your fault, but how many other times have been, son? I know you don't mean to hurt him, just like I didn't mean to hurt him. But we both have. Very badly.

Now, I'm not telling you to stop being yourself. I just want you to think about that red-eyed and haggard face you woke up to, and imagine him like that or worse, every time something happens to you. You can still leap without looking, that's part of you, I know that, but as smart as you are -- There have to be limits, Jim. You don't have to go on every away mission. Show him you've heard what he's been trying to tell you during his grumbling. Quit acting like what happened is nothing. It's not. You were as good as dead if not for that man who loves you more than he loves himself. He'd do anything for you, and it's time you start giving some of that back to him.

You're going to lose him if you don't, son. And I know that's not what you want.

Next time there's an away mission with even a negligible risk, stay behind like you are _supposed_ to. It won't kill you. I promise.

_Show_ him you're listening. That's how you can repay him for saving your life, and in return, you're saving his too.

Take care of yourself, son, and happy birthday, even though I'm late. Sorry about that. Next year both of us should try to stay out of medical on your birthday.

Love,  
Chris

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

I'm beyond relieved to know that Jim will be okay. God, I don't even know what to say, Len. But thank you for not whitewashing it all for me. I'll admit, I've been holding back a few things -- Now stop panicking -- I love you. I'm _not_ giving up. I'll try to explain.

This command was and is important to me. You have no idea how important. It was like getting back part of myself that I never thought I'd get back. I was going to go out on _my_ terms and not those of a madman. Then I started having these medical issues, and Len, they started well before we had our misunderstanding, so don't even try to blame yourself. Well, I thought that was it. I can't command like this. Philip can't figure out why it's happening. It's not getting any better, and hell, if stress is going to make it worse -- Philip can only keep things from Starfleet for so long before they'd step in and I'd have to resign my command.

So I'd not only lose that, but the pain I've been in -- It's pretty incapacitating. You know from when you treated me on Enterprise that I have a pretty high pain threshold. Some of this was even worse than when it first happened. There's also been numbness in my legs. Yeah, I can still walk. But truthfully, Philip thinks some of the damage that couldn't be regenerated may eventually put me back in the chair. Plus, God, Len -- There have been times that I haven't been able to get an erection. I still can most of the time and Philip is _sure_ it's just stress and pain, but fuck, Len. I can't -- That's why I was saying you'd be better off without me. I know you said when we first got together that the chair didn't matter, but it matters to _me_. And I don't know how to deal with the potential that it might happen. I was just trying to save you the pain of possibly having to deal with an incapacitated partner. That's all.

I don't want to lose you, Len. I'm scared to death. Right now things are better medically. Philip found a drug combination that seems to be helping and I'm back on light duty. I'm in a better place mentally and I'm sleeping a little better. I know it's foolish, but there was just part of me that figured, as mad as you were at me, that it might be easier to just let you go now. Stupid, I know. But I love you that much, Len. I love you so much that I wouldn't want you tied down if this gets worse or doesn't get better. I'd let you go even if it killed me, and it would.

Len, you deserve nothing that has happened to you. I don't believe in 'cosmic karma' or whatever. You're a beautiful, kind, generous, and loving man. What's that old saying, 'Bad things happen to good people?' Well, I think you get the idea. You deserve to be happy, Len. All I've ever wanted is to make you happy and I've failed miserably. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

Fuck. We're both such a mess right now it's almost laughable. But honey, I love you. I'm sorry I was trying to push you away. It's not want I want. You won't _ever_ lose me as long as you still want me. I know we both have issues we need to work out individually and together.

I'm not giving up, Len. I'm sorry I made you feel like I was. I've just been a bit hopeless with everything that's happened lately and I forgot what was really important.

You. I still apparently have _you_ even after the clusterfuck of the last couple of months. As long as I have you, I can get through anything.

God, I love you so much, Len. Don't forget that.

Always,  
Chris

p.s. Philip is supposed to be sending you all my files and also the neurological consults he's already gotten.

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

Dear god, I felt so much better when I read your last comm. God damn it, man, don't pull that shit on me - trying to pull away from me for my own good. Chris, you wanted to save me the "pain" of having a disabled partner? I can't even tell you how much worse the pain of not having you in my life would be. There's no comparison.

I've told you this before, but I'll tell you as many more times as it takes: it doesn't matter to me if you're in a chair or not. Yeah, it would be an adjustment for you, but you're resilient, and I know you'd adapt. For me - Chris, what would I lose, really? If you're talking about sex, well, not to be crude, but I'd still have your hands, your mouth, and your ass. And we've got plenty of toys that you can use on me too. I am not worried about our sex life, darlin'. Even if you somehow lost all interest in sex, and I was going to be masturbating the rest of my life, I would gladly take that in exchange for having you as my partner. If you're worried about your other physical abilities, and possibly needing help - Chris, we can deal with that too. I think you'd be amazed at how quickly you'd adjust and find yourself doing pretty much everything you used to do, on your own.

So that's the worst-case scenario, and really, it's not that bad, is it? We'd still have each other, you'd have your sharp mind, your wicked sense of humor, and your incredible passion. Everything that makes you _you_ , everything that I fell in love with - you've still got all of that, no matter what happens physically, all right, darlin'?

That said, though, I don't think there's the remotest chance that that's going to come to pass. Almost certainly, the loss of physical function is related entirely to the stress, PTSD, pushing yourself physically in order to resume your command. The pain is probably largely related to that as well. As far as the secretions from the centaurian slug, and any lingering effects from that damage, I'll do whatever it takes to figure out what's going on. I'm calling in some favors to get some doctors I know, top people in various fields, to take a look at your file. And of course I'm looking at it as well, any moment that I'm not busy with my official duties. As soon as I know anything, I'll comm you and Philip. I swear, Chris, we're going to figure this thing out. You may be a human guinea pig, but you're _my_ human guinea pig and Chris, I take care of what's mine. No matter what.

So, yeah. We're both a mess and the last couple months have been a clusterfuck. But it's going to get better. In fact, things have been amazingly peaceful around here for the last couple weeks. Jim's on restricted duty and there've been a couple of away missions that he couldn't participate in, and Chris - he didn't even argue with me when I told him he couldn't go. That's _never_ happened before. So hell, if _Jim_ can change, grow up some, there's got to be hope for you and me, that we can both bend a little, meet in the middle, and make this thing between us work.

I've been watching the vids again, after a long time of not even looking at them. Not so much the porn, but some of the other bits and pieces of you and me together. There's a moment, the morning of your birthday, when we were both in bed with the breakfast tray. I was trying to feed you a bite of waffle, and I missed and got a smear of butter on your cheek. And you just threw your head back and laughed. God, Chris, it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, you relaxed and laughing in our bed, just so goddamned _happy_. I want to see you that way again. More than that - I want to be the one to make you feel that way again. I've been watching that bit - it's maybe 30 seconds of video - again and again, just memorizing the way your eyes look, the laugh lines around your mouth.

So we'll have our vidcomm when the Enterprise makes its resupply stop. And it'll only be a few months after that until we're both back on earth. I don't think I'm going to feel entirely right until I'm in your arms again. But as long as I know you're not going to give up on us, I can deal with anything else.

I love you, Chris. No matter what idiotic things I might say or do sometimes, I always will.

Yours,  
Len

  



	15. Some of Us Are Out of Breath (Part 15 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike. Plus bonus appearances from Jim Kirk and Philip Boyce!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) (the loud one): I may just possibly have a birthday coming up soon (APRIL 8 IN CASE YOU WERE WONDERING) and if anyone happens to be pondering gift ideas, I would have no objection to Pike or Bruce goodness in any form, from picspams to icons to stories. Just sayin'. La la la la la. :D From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/)**mga1999** (the quiet one): Well, my birthday isn't until July, but if you want to get started writing me an epic Kirk/McCoy h/c or angsty fic -- I'm just sayin' :P

_**Trek Fic: Some of Us Are Out of Breath (Pike/McCoy, PG)**_  
 **Title:** Some of Us Are Out of Breath (Part 15 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** PG  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** around 6600  
 **Summary:** The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike. Plus bonus appearances from Jim Kirk and Philip Boyce!  
 **Authors' Notes:** From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) (the loud one): I may just possibly have a birthday coming up soon (APRIL 8 IN CASE YOU WERE WONDERING) and if anyone happens to be pondering gift ideas, I would have no objection to Pike or Bruce goodness in any form, from picspams to icons to stories. Just sayin'. La la la la la. :D From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) (the quiet one): Well, my birthday isn't until July, but if you want to get started writing me an epic Kirk/McCoy h/c or angsty fic -- I'm just sayin' :P

  


  
To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

Message received, sir. And consider this an apology for not telling you how Bones really was. I knew you weren't well and Bones told me stress was making your condition worse... So I was just trying not to upset you. I promise though, that I was taking care of him the best that I could. Well, as much as he lets anyone take care of him, which as you know, isn't much.

I'm assuming Bones doesn't know you sent me a copy of his comm because he hasn't said anything. You should have seen the look on his face three days ago when I didn't argue about being grounded for an away mission. I get it now. I'm not sure how I will balance being able to be me and trying not to worry Bones so much. I'll figure it out though. You know me, I don't believe in no-win scenarios.

We haven't really talked about anything. I was trying to give him a little space after reading that me being around him was only making it worse. I guess it helped, because now he's back to hovering and grousing as I continue to recover. He even parked himself on _my_ couch two nights ago when I was relapsing a little because, yeah, I overdid things that day and paid for it. He didn't chew me out, just sat with me while I threw up over and over. Despite asking him to put me out of my misery several times, he didn't.

I skipped the last away mission yesterday, and will probably skip the next one too because I still feel like crap. Yes, he knows I feel like crap; I'm not hiding how I feel from him. Or at least I'm really _trying_ not to. It's been kind of nice though the last few nights. He's been reading and researching your medical problems while lying on my couch, while I've been lying in bed doing paperwork. If he doesn't stay, he's been waiting until I'm asleep to leave and then he's there with breakfast and a hypo as soon as I'm awake. I have no idea how he knows when I'm awake, he just does. It's kind of frightening.

We found one planet with sentient life. Weird culture. Tall lizard-like creatures, but with hair. They had a strange language that Lt. Uhura was drooling over. They weren't interested in joining the federation, but we exchanged some cultural information and they know how to contact us if the need arises. I wish I had been able to go down, but at least I was able to speak to them from the bridge. Those are the kind of missions I love. Adding new planets to our database, finding new cultures and races. Despite what Bones thinks, I don't go off half-cocked to get myself killed every time. It just seems to happen.

Well, Bones just walked in with my dinner. I'm back to broth again. But if it keeps me from vomiting for hours on end... I don't like it, but it's better than the alternative.

I have complete faith that Bones will be able to figure out what's causing your medical problems and find a way to fix it. Until then, take care of yourself and I promise I'll take care of Bones.

Love,  
Jim

p.s. Thank you for the birthday wishes. It wasn't too bad considering I was in sick bay.

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

I've been back in command for four days now and I have to say it feels pretty good. Philip is worried that the drug combos are just masking the problem, and he's probably right. Until you and all the other doctors figure out what the hell is going on, I don't really have a choice. Despite my problems, the ship is running smooth as can be. I could not ask for a better command crew. They have taken everything in stride and have been beyond supportive. I'm not sure I'd still be here on the ship if they hadn't been. There have been times lately that I've seriously considered resigning my command. They've made it perfectly clear that they'd rather have me here like this, than not at all. I only hope I don't let them down.

I'm working the first half of beta shift, then I go for hydrotherapy, and then I work the first part of gamma. Then I eat and get a massage and go to sleep. So far it's worked out well. I miss being able to walk around the entire ship -- I liked just wandering when I was off duty and seeing my crew, but I'm trying to listen to Philip and take it easy. I just make sure I make it to the mess a couple times a day so I can see everyone, and more importantly, so they can see me.

We're orbiting a planet right now; Commander Sato is about ready to take an away team down. They've asked for our help negotiating a trade agreement with a planet in a neighboring system. So I've been communicating with them by vidcomm and hope to join them down on the planet at some point. It's been tough going. Both worlds started very far apart in terms of what they expected from each other, but we're working our way through and Commander Michaels, who, if you don't remember, is my science officer, is a brilliant mediator. I'm very lucky to have him.

I'm glad my last comm made you feel better. That in turn makes me feel better. I honestly had to put the crystal away during most of this. I couldn't stand looking at it knowing that I caused most of your pain. I'm sure you feel the same way seeing mine dark red. The crystals are almost a double edged sword sometimes, aren't they? I hope mine is showing I'm pretty calm right now. I feel like I am. The pain isn't too bad and whatever drugs Philip is giving me have really helped with the pins and needles that were making me so -- well, on-edge. Sometimes I wonder if I'm being selfish staying up here when I probably belong back on earth so they can figure out what the hell is wrong and what they can do. I just feel like if I do that, I'll never make it back to my command chair. I'm just not ready to give that up.

I'm relieved that Jim is doing better. He mentioned he relapsed, though, and seems to be having a tough time of it. He won't tell me much. He thinks he shouldn't be upsetting me. You know Jim. I was glad to hear he was so sensible about the away mission, especially considering how sick he still seems. And Len, I know how frustrating he must be sometimes, and you say that you try to talk to him -- Now, I hope I'm not out of line here, but I think you and Jim, while you are somewhat like yin and yang, you speak a different language too. You may grouse and rant at him, but did you ever think that maybe that's why he doesn't listen? I honestly don't know how you tried to talk to him about it, Len. I just think if you sat him down and talked to him without growling -- And yes, Len, you growl -- I think you should just give him a chance to prove he's not the completely reckless kid you think he is. Okay? Enough about that now.

How are _you_? Are you still taking all those sleeping pills? -- God, Len, I can't tell you how much that scares me. I hope things have improved enough with us and with Jim's health that you aren't still relying on them. Just please, don't whitewash things about either of you. I hate being in the dark and just getting snippets from Jim and you and not knowing what's really going on. I'm worried about you. Have you made contact with a doctor to talk to when you get to the starbase? And yes, I am going to keep on you about that. Me, I've been talking to Dr. Rossen, but I needed a little break from talking to Dr. Elliott. I did comm her about the problems we've had, but I'm not really planning to talk to her again until we see her together. I hope you understand that. I just -- I still can't deal with some of that right now and am trying not to think about what a mess of things I made.

Yes, I've been putting off talking about the possibility of me being back in the chair for the end of this comm. It does make me feel better, all those things you said, Len. About it not mattering and -- Well, I don't want you to think it doesn't. I know I would adjust, but I still feel like I wouldn't be the same man. I know that doesn't make sense, and if the situation were reversed I would feel the same way you do -- I'd just be glad to be with you. But it's not reversed, Len. It's me and my mobility and my sex life -- I can't fathom never being able to be inside you again, and be able to _feel_ that. Sometimes I think that if I do end up back in the chair -- Well, I feel like it was cruel to let me out in the first place. Because as grateful for the time we got to spend together when I could, now I know what I'll be missing.

Again, I'm not giving up. I'm just trying to be honest about how I'm feeling. Hell, half the time I don't even know anymore. One minute I think, okay, I'm in command, this is working, I can do this. Then next I think, who am I kidding, and feel like resigning. It's not fun. So please, Len. Think of me as a cautionary tale and talk to someone, or heck, get Jim to get another counselor added to the Enterprise. He can do that. If he does it soon enough, you could have one on board when you go to the starbase. So think about that. Talk to Jim. Don't let it bottle up like I did and become an absolute mess like I am.

As usual, I'm starting to nod off here at my console so I'm going to get some sleep.

I love you, Len. Take care of yourself.

Yours always,  
Chris

To: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Jim,

You know, son, telling me you've relapsed, and that Len is sleeping on your couch to watch you, doesn't really lower my stress levels. Just so you know. You and Len both give me little tidbits and then my mind probably goes worse places than what's really happening. So next time, I want to hear all of it, okay? Don't force me to order you, because you know I will.

Seriously though, how are you? I'm sure you must be going crazy being sick this long. I know how you are. You're just like I was. And like you, I'd push myself until I'd make myself sick again too. So listen to Len and take care of yourself.

Hell, it seems stupid for me to even be writing about these things sometimes. You won't get this for a week and I hope by then you'll be well again.

No, Len doesn't know I sent that comm to you. You also know I wouldn't break his confidence unless I thought it was absolutely necessary, which it was. I figured if he found out, he couldn't be too mad since it's obvious he's either shared my comms with you at times or talked with you about them -- which is fine by the way. We all say stupid and foolish things when we are upset, but I'm glad he has you, Jim. I hope you know that. I'm not going to lecture you anymore about listening to him, but just -- just give him a chance if he tries to talk to you. Okay?

I'm feeling a bit better. Not great, but I'm back on duty and things are getting back to normal. We're orbiting a planet negotiating a trade agreement between two worlds. I love exploring new worlds and cultures just as much as you do, but a close second is mediating. There is just something about bringing together two worlds or two different cultures that is just so immensely satisfying. I think I will miss that the most when I have to give up my command.

Make sure you vidcomm me when you are re-supplying at the starbase. I need to see for myself that you're all right. Be safe, and take care of yourself. And if I haven't said it enough, thank you for taking care of Len for me.

Love,  
Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

Of course your crew would rather have you around even if you're not at 100% rather than lose you. They're not complete morons, after all, or you wouldn't have picked 'em. But I am glad that things are running smoothly. Sounds like you've got a workable routine, and you've found a good way to be able to connect with your crew without tiring yourself out too much. If only Jim would do the same.

You'd asked about his health, and what caused the relapse. Really, it wasn't serious and it was brought on by his own idiocy. He'd been on restricted duty and was going stir crazy, so I told him he could do a light workout at the gym. So he went and ran five miles on the treadmill, at his pre-injury pace. Of course he made himself dizzy, disoriented, lightheaded, and nauseous. His body basically rebelled against that treatment. Hell, he'd been on death's door only a couple weeks earlier, and he was trying to act as if nothing had happened. I think some of the guys from security were in the gym at the same time as him, and he just couldn't let them outdo him, so he tried to keep up. It wasn't dangerous, just unpleasant, which is actually probably the best medicine - if he has to deal with some of the consequences of the crap he pulls, maybe he won't be so quick to pull it next time.

As to your suggestion as to how I talk to him - hell, I admit I growl. I also tend to fly off the handle and let my temper get the better of me, as I've recently shown. I'll try to approach things more calmly with him, and with you, but just so you know, that's easier said than done. I will try, though. My daddy was the same way - worse, in fact. He'd get into a screaming rage and my mama would get so irked with him. She'd say "David, you're having a conniption fit. Stop it this instant." Sometimes it would startle him out of his mad, sometimes it just made it worse. He never lifted a hand to either of us, in case you're wondering about that. He just cussed and hollered a lot, and if it got really bad he'd stomp out of the house and walk around outside for a while until he cooled down. I used to do that too - the walking around outside to calm down, I mean. It's hard, Chris, being up here in this sardine can in space, not being able to go outside whenever I want to walk around and see the sun or the moon, breathe fresh air, feel dirt underneath my feet. Yeah, I go on away missions, but it's not the same. I miss the earth, simple as that. It's harder than I imagined, and I know that not having that escape valve doesn't help my temper. Sometimes I swear I was insane for joining Starfleet. But then, it got me both you and Jim, so I can't regret it.

Yeah, the crystals can be a double-edged sword, that's for damn sure. It was hard looking at yours, knowing you were in pain, and especially when you were angry or sad, knowing that I had caused that. At the time, I was shielded by my own self-righteous rage, but still, it bothered me. Overall, though, I think that's a good thing, Chris. At least for me. Knowing how you're feeling, knowing that _I_ made you feel that way - it's a good reminder to me. I can't lie to myself and say that something I said or did didn't _really_ hurt you when I can just glance at my hand and _see_ that I did. And in case you're wondering, throughout all this recent mess, I never took off my ring. I haven't taken it off since I first put it on, except for when I've had to in order to perform a medical procedure. It's a part of me, Chris. I'd feel lost without it.

Incidentally, I've gotten more compliments on that ring, I swear. Seems like most of the women on the crew have been talking about it and whenever I'm in the mess or the gym or anywhere else, I nearly always get stopped by someone wanting to see it. And the rumors that surround it are downright astonishing. There are rumors that the crystal allows us to psychically communicate with each other, that it has magic healing powers, that it binds our lives together so that if one of us dies the other will instantly die too, or, my personal favorite, that it contains a part of your soul, and that you wear a matching ring that contains a part of my soul. Good lord, these people have been watching too many holovids. Some people have noticed the color-changing property, but no one's figured out what it means, and I'm certainly not going to tell 'em. I have to admit it's kind of amusing listening to the speculation, though.

Chris - I won't whitewash things about me or Jim, but I expect the same from you, and that includes no more holding out on me, not telling me things that are going on with you because you don't want to worry me. All right? Okay, lecture over. Sometimes if I give snippets it's because it just doesn't occur to me to say anymore about a particular topic, and if you have any questions, please, always ask me, darlin'. It's become pretty damn obvious that one of our challenges as a couple is clear communication with each other, so the least we can both do is, if there's something that we're wondering about, ask each other. Fair?

Yeah, I've arranged to have a vidcomm session with a psychiatrist that I know back on earth. His name's Gabriel Pagao, and I met him when I was doing my surgical residency at St. Joseph's in Atlanta. He's in private practice now, semi-retired, but when I contacted him he agreed to see me.

On the sleeping drugs, I'm weaning off of them. It's dangerous to just stop suddenly, but I am feeling better, Chris, and I'm getting off them as fast as medically possible. The withdrawal symptoms aren't a picnic - headache, some tremors, anxiety - but it'd be worse if I just stopped cold turkey. Don't worry - I'm doing all of this under the supervision of Dr. M'Benga. He's the one who prescribed me the meds in the first place, so he was always aware that I was on them, and the dosage that I was taking. So on that front, it's an irritant as I taper down, but nothing worse than that. I promise.

Darlin', I didn't mean to imply, when talking about what would happen if you were in the chair, that you wouldn't be entitled to grieve what you'd lost in terms of mobility or sexual function. Of course you'd go through a grieving process, and I'd be grieving with you. I just meant that - well, you know what I meant. I'd rather be with you, no matter what the circumstances, than be without you.

In case I haven't told you this, or haven't told you enough, I think you're absolutely amazing. Not many would have been able to go through what you did on the Narada and come out alive, much less whole and sane. And your recovery - Chris, some of it was modern medicine but a lot of it was pure grit and determination. Not one in a thousand would have been walking again as soon as you were, and to get back in shape to assume command of a starship? Honestly, Chris, it's unbelievable. If it were anyone else, I'd say it was impossible. But you make the impossible happen.

Speaking of your health and recovery, I think we're making some progress toward getting to the bottom of what's causing your pain and loss of function. I told you I called in several consults, and we've all been comming and brainstorming and sharing ideas. You probably noticed the battery of tests Philip's been putting you through - those tests have been done at the request of various doctors on the team, and the results have been interesting. It looks like you've got some scar tissue that formed after I operated on you on the Enterprise. It's not something that anyone ever thought to look for, because with modern surgical techniques, laser scalpels and post-surgery meds, post-surgical scar tissue just doesn't form anymore. But the damn slug's secretions somehow neutralized the anti-scar meds and so you do have some scar tissue. It's interfering with the free flow of your cerebral-spinal fluid. The good news is that it's a fairly simple problem to correct - a second surgery to remove the scar tissue will be relatively quick and uncomplicated, and virtually risk-free. The bad news is that the problem will just recur unless we can find a way to remove the last of the slug's secretions from your spinal fluid. So we're working on that. We've got several ideas already, though, so I'm confident that we _will_ beat this thing, and fairly soon, too. Philip's been a champ - not only contributing to the discussions but also not getting prickly about having a dozen other doctors look over his shoulder, question his treatments to date, and tell him what he should be doing instead. Most doctors - well, let's just say there's no way that I would have handled the situation with the grace that Philip's shown, if it were me. So tell him thanks for me. I'll tell him myself as well, because I'm going to vidcomm him when we're at the starbase to discuss the latest test results.

God damn, I can't wait to see your face again - only two weeks now until our resupply stop. I know you've said you're afraid to see me, but Chris, it's just me, and I love you more than anything. I want to look into your beautiful blue-gray eyes, and hear your sexy voice. It'll be hell not being able to touch you, but half a loaf is better than none, right?

I keep thinking about getting to see you, be with you in June. Just to be able to wrap my arms around you, breathe in your scent, feel your breath warm against my ear when you welcome me home. I love your hair, the way it feels so soft under my fingers. I'm going to run my fingers through it, over and over, and I'm going to kiss you breathless. And when you get your ring made, I'm going to slide it onto your finger and I know it's going to be practically glowing green with how happy I'll be.

Well, it's getting late and I'd better turn in, but just know that I love you, baby, and that you're my whole life.

Yours always,  
Len

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

I had a dream last night and when I woke up I wanted to go back to sleep and never leave it. We were in Georgia at your homestead. And we were lying on a blanket underneath a tree. There was a picnic basket next to us. We were drinking red wine, which I thought was weird because even though I drink red, I've never seen you touch it. But I was lying with my head in your lap, half drowsing while you read. You were running your fingers through my hair, and I remember just feeling so content, so safe, and so unbelievably happy. It was beautiful. It gave me hope, and I really need that right now.

I'm not sure what I expected during our joint counseling section. I didn't expect Dr. Elliott to have some magic answer to our problems. But I don't think either of expected to hear some harsh truths, nor were we ready to face them. She's absolutely right though. These kind of issues do end relationships and marriages. And I think she's right, that we need to step back a little right now and work on our own issues first before we can work on our problems together. That's not easy to swallow. I'm not sure exactly what that means though. I certainly don't want to stop writing you. I want to be able to vidcomm you whenever you're in range.

God, Len, seeing your face on the vidcomm screen for three days in a row, it was like Christmas. Yeah, I was pretty scared the first time; I hesitated four times before I hit the connect key. But the minute you said 'Hey darlin'' to me, all the fear just washed away. I'm really glad we got a chance to talk again the day after the counseling session before Enterprise left the starbase. I know we kind of both skirted the issues she brought up, but I don't think I would have been -- Well, I wouldn't have been okay if I hadn't seen your face again and heard you tell me that you loved me and that we'd get through this. I don't think either one of us felt like that after the session. I know I didn't.

So tell me what you want to do, Len. Is it easier for you not to hear from me while you're working out your issues? Honestly, I still want to be able to write you -- I need to be able to write you. And God, I can't imagine being on earth at the same time in June and not being able to see you. But I know we both have some work to do on ourselves in the next few months, so if it's easier, just say the word. I won't take it as an offense or think any differently of you. It kills me that you are hurting so much. Seeing you crying -- That about killed me. I don't even know how I held it together.

Dr. Elliott has sent me several ebooks on communicating with your partner. We've talked about several of the topics in the months I've been seeing her, but she says it might be better for someone like me to read them. So I'm going to start doing that as soon as I can. Right now, as I told you on our vidcomm two days ago, I'm having a little trouble with my vision. Philip isn't sure if it's a side effect of the cocktail of meds that I'm on, or issues like you explained with the spinal/cerebral fluid getting worse. I have a feeling it's the latter, because he's had to up the dosage on my pain meds again and honestly, I'm not very steady on my feet right now. I'm managing though.

How did your counseling session with Dr. Pagao go? I will admit I wish you'd let Jim get another counselor for the ship. I would have felt better knowing you had someone to talk to who didn't take a week to get your messages. But I trust that you know what you need to help yourself. I'm just worried about you. Especially after the counseling session. You seemed tired and -- I don't know, defeated.

I'm not sure if this is the right thing to say, so forgive me if it's not. I honestly don't know _how_ to help you right now. What do you need, Len? Is there anything I can do to make you -- Hell, I don't even know. I know I can't heal your past pain. Just like you can't heal mine. We can't move forward until we accept our faults and figure out how to -- How did she put it? -- 'Be attuned to your partner's needs without changing who you are.' Fuck. I don't know how that's supposed to happen. I mean, I get the idea. I have to be more sensitive about the words I choose and how I approach things with you. I have to _ask_ and not just demand and declare. It seems easy, but it's not.

Bottom line. Wait, that's probably not something I should say anymore, is it? God, Len. I just want to know what you want from me right now. Me, I guess I'm just still worried you won't have the patience to wait while I learn how to give you what you need. You told me before that I give you everything you need, but I think it's clear from our counseling session that I don't. I worry what will happen if you 'fly off the handle' sometime when we're together. Because I know I won't deal with that well. I know I need to learn to. But my reaction will be to push back just as hard and, fuck, Len, I think you know I have my cruel streak when someone hurts me or makes me angry.

Most of all right now, I just wish you were here in my arms. I know that wouldn't make everything better, but right now -- I just need you. I almost wish we hadn't had the counseling session. Because I'll be honest -- It scared me, Len. I've told you before that I can't imagine my life without you anymore. But I know if we can't find a way through this mess -- God, Len. I don't want to lose you. I refuse to accept that possibility. I'll do whatever it takes. I mean that.

I love you. I have to believe that somehow, that love with help us find our way through. Because I want that dream I had last night to become a reality. I really do.

Yours forever, and I mean that,  
Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

That dream sounds beautiful, darlin'. I want for that to happen too. I'm actually looking forward to going home, to showing you the old place. Haven't wanted to go back there for a while, but with you by my side, I can face it. It's where my daddy passed. He didn't want to be in a hospital, wanted to die in his own bed. His doctors fought him like hell on it, but he was a stubborn old cuss and he got his way in the end. But there's a hell of a lot of good memories there too. I'd like to reclaim some of them, and share them with you.

There's even a few trees that would be pretty much perfect for a picnic like the one you had in your dream. I can introduce you to the mint julep, or make up a pitcher of sweet tea like my mama used to - I'm sure it won't surprise you to know that it's got peaches in it. Good lord, a lazy summer day in Georgia. Been too long since I've had one of those.

Yeah, the counselor was pretty harsh. I can respect unvarnished honesty from a doctor, but damn. I think she went a bit overboard. I also think, with all due respect, that she's completely and totally wrong about us taking some time to step back and work on our own issues. Not that she's wrong about us both needing to work on our own stuff, because we do. But stepping back? Good lord, I think that's the worst thing we could do right now. I need you right now, and you need me too. Putting distance between us will just give our fears a chance to grow and multiply. So if I seemed defeated after our session, it's only because I was afraid that you'd want to take her advice and put some distance between us. Was half convinced you'd think it was for my own good.

So I hope that answers your question, Chris. God, no, don't stop writing to me, don't stop vidcomming me whenever we're in range, and I don't intend to let you out of my sight once we're back together on earth in June. You asked me what I need. Right now, Chris, what I need from you is closeness, to know that you're not pulling away. And yeah, for a while I'll probably need extra reassurance, so just try to be patient with that, if you can. What about you, Chris? What do you need from me?

You said that it's obvious that you don't give me everything I need but you do, darlin', I swear you do. You give me love, passion, tenderness, a shoulder to cry on, a kick in the ass when I need it, and the sweetest lovemaking I've ever known. Yeah, maybe sometimes the _way_ you communicate that stuff rubs me the wrong way, just like the way I communicate things sometimes drives you insane. But that's... that's just surface stuff, Chris. It's important, not trying to say it's not, but the fact that we sometimes drive each other crazy with the _way_ we say stuff, that doesn't mean that there's anything missing from our relationship, or anything that I need that I'm not getting. Just means there's a few wrinkles to iron out. That's all.

As long as we're both working together to figure this thing out, Chris, we'll make it. You're not going to lose me, not as long as you want me around.

I'm worried about your physical condition, darlin', with the vision problems and unsteadiness. And in your last letter, you said you'd never seen me drink red wine, but darlin', we both drank it the night we had dinner with the Barnetts, the night before your birthday. I'm pretty sure you mentioned it in a previous comm, even. It could mean nothing, but normally you've got a steel trap mind, so this could be a sign of memory loss, which concerns me too. I'm getting daily updates from Philip so I'm following what's going on, but it kills me getting these comms a week delayed. By the time I get one, it's too late for me to suggest anything because your condition has changed and by the time my comm gets to Philip it'll have changed even more. It's goddamned frustrating. So I'm just trying to let go and know that you're in good hands. As you know, that's not so easy to do. Probably feels about like how you did when you were in sickbay and not in command of your ship. It was good to vidcomm with Philip when we were at the starbase, though, we share our latest ideas and I got the chance to thank him for taking care of you for me.

I know Jim was glad of the chance to talk to you, by the way. He's been calmer lately, not so apt to go haring off into danger, and that's a relief. But Chris, he's been different ever since our visit to the starbase. Odd. Distant. He's spending less and less time with me, and spending more with that pointy-eared bastard. They play chess just about every night, when we used to hang out together in my quarters, just doing paperwork or shooting the breeze. I tried to ask him about it - and I swear I didn't growl - but he just slapped me on the shoulder and told me to give you his regards, with this horrible fake smile on his face. You didn't say anything to him during your vidcomm, did you? Or notice anything odd about him? It's starting to freak me out.

My session with Dr. Pagao went well. One of the reasons I chose him is because he knew me, back when I was going through hell with my daddy's illness, my marriage, the miscarriage, all of it. In fact, he's met both Jocelyn and my father. He didn't know them well, doesn't really know me that well either - we were professional colleagues, not friends. But the fact that he already knows some of this shit and some of the people involved, well, it makes it easier for me to talk about it, I guess. I'm not sure I could just open up and unload on a total stranger, even if that was their job. Just not how I'm made, I guess. But I don't want you to worry, Chris. Aside from weekly comms with Dr. Pagao, vidcomm sessions whenever we can arrange it, and live sessions when I'm planetside, I've also got you, and Jim's right here too, if I need to talk about something that can't wait.

God, it was good to see your face. Yeah, maybe we avoided the sticky issues between us, but maybe to that extent, at least, Dr. Elliott is right. Maybe we need to leave those wounds alone for a while, just enjoy each other for the time being. Keep doing our individual counseling. Then, after we're feeling a little more settled about our own issues, we can tackle some of the stuff between us. I don't know. What do you think, darlin'?

Every time we vidcommed, I could tell that we were finding our way back to where we were. Remembering how good we are together, how much we love each other, how many plans we've made together that we still both want more than anything. I know you've said the desert heals you. If we have time after your parents' anniversary celebration, I'd love for you to show me your ranch in Mojave. Show me the places that heal you. Maybe we can do some healing together.

Well, darlin', it's way past my bedtime and my sleep schedule is pretty much shot to hell with the withdrawal from the sleep meds right now, so I shouldn't make it any worse. In case you were worrying (and if I know you, you were), I'm off those meds completely now. Still going through a bit of withdrawal but it should fade within a couple weeks.

I love you, Chris. I can't even describe how much.

Yours always,  
Len

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Philip Boyce (pboyce@starfleet.gov)

Len,

Chris had a seizure late last night. I put him in a medically induced coma to try to ward off any further brain injury. He's stable, and left early this morning on a medical shuttle to a Starbase in the Laurentian system for surgery. Two of the neurologists we were consulting with are currently on their way there to perform the surgery and the experimental procedure you've been working on. I know you wanted more time to test it, but he's too critical to wait.

There is no point in me saying more since you won't get this until his surgery is over. I've attached updates to his files from the last two days showing his quick decline. I will be conferencing into the surgical suite live and will keep you informed.

He'll be fine, Len. He's a fighter. Take care of yourself.

Philip

  



	16. If This Were Only Cleared Away (Part 16 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike. What happened after Pike's seizure? D:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)**skyblue_reverie** (the loud one): Thank you to everyone for the birthday gifts  & wishes! Also, I've got a habit of taking inspiration from comment conversations and the like, so if you see something in the fic that you recognize from something you said to me, yeah, that's where it's from. ;)

_**Trek Fic: If This Were Only Cleared Away (Pike/McCoy, PG)**_  
 **Title:** If This Were Only Cleared Away (Part 16 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** PG  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** around 6200  
 **Summary:** The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike. What happened after Pike's seizure? D:  
 **Authors' Notes:** From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) (the loud one): Thank you to everyone for the birthday gifts & wishes! Also, I've got a habit of taking inspiration from comment conversations and the like, so if you see something in the fic that you recognize from something you said to me, yeah, that's where it's from. ;)

  


To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Philip Boyce (pboyce@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

Surgery is over and went as well as expected. They are waiting for his vitals to stabilize and will hopefully start the procedure to remove the toxins in the morning. I've attached the vid of the surgery and updates to his files.

He's in good hands, Len, if that's any consolation.

Philip

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

I know you're in no shape to respond to this, so don't even try. I just wanted to write to you to let you know that I'm thinking of you, and I love you. I've been comming with Philip - in real time, even, including vidcomms.

When I first got Philip's comm that you'd had a seizure and were undergoing surgery, I went a little bit berserk. Think I scared Christine - Chapel, my head nurse, pretty sure I've mentioned her. She's been a rock recently, holding things together in sickbay when I've been - well, you know.

Anyway, I tore onto the bridge and pulled Jim aside. He was nearly as worried as I was. He had a quick confab with Scotty, and suddenly there was some communications array malfunction - some doodad had "broken off" the ship due to "errant space debris," and it was something that Scotty couldn't fabricate himself. It was too dangerous for us to stay in uncharted space with no communications, and we had to get to the nearest outpost in order to send a comm to order the part. Or something like that. I don't really know the details, and I don't really care. The point is, Jim made it happen. We hightailed it to the nearest Federation outpost to order and then wait for the thingamajig, which meant we were there for several days, coincidentally at a facility that had instant communications relay. So even though your surgery was already over by the time I got Philip's comm, it was good to get a chance to catch up with your status, vidcomm with Philip, and even see you, although you were unconscious at the time.

I'd been wondering about the crystal - it had been going white and then flickering rapidly between a lot of different colors. Was doing that when I saw you on the vidcomm, so it must be when you're unconscious and the thoughts and feelings are just sort of randomly coming and going. It's actually kind of pretty, but worrisome now that I know what it means. Of course, more crew members have noticed it, since it's been flashing between colors more rapidly, and that along with my tearing onto the bridge in a panic and our sudden change of course has even wilder rumors flying around.

Apparently it gave a blinding flash of light while I was on duty in sickbay, I passed out, and when I came to I was speaking in tongues and giving Jim instructions from on high about what he had to do next to save your life, and Jim, despite secretly carrying a torch for me, nobly carried out the instructions so that you and I could have our epic romance and I'd be happy, or some damn thing. I don't even know. Christine follows all the rumors - she won't fess up, but I suspect she starts some of them herself - and she gets great amusement out of telling me the latest ones.

Anyway, I'm rambling. Good god, I'm grateful that the procedure seems to have worked. The scar tissue is all gone - that was the easy part - but your spinal fluid so far seems to be completely clear of the Centaurian slug's secretions. I owe a huge debt to Scotty - not just for this latest communication "mishap," but also because he designed the mechanism that let your surgeons filter your cerebral-spinal fluid quickly enough that it could be done without danger to you. Yeah, I synthesized the chemical that neutralized that goddamn stuff, but without Scotty's filter, it wouldn't have done any good because it was too toxic to inject into you directly. Anyway, I'm just glad it all went smoothly - I would've liked more time to test it out, but thank god it worked anyway. And I'm sure Jim will be glad of it too - for your sake, of course, but also because I've been using him and me as human pincushions, taking samples of spinal fluid that I could use for testing. I could have synthesized some, but I never trust synthetics as much as the real thing. Don't worry - it wasn't dangerous to either of us or I wouldn't have done it. A bit uncomfortable, but that's all.

Well, I'll end this now because I don't want to tire you out. You just work on getting better, all right? Listen to Philip and don't push yourself too hard. Fuck, Chris, you gave me a scare.

I know you're in good hands. Can't help wishing that I were there as well, but if wishes were fishes we'd walk on the sea, my daddy used to say. I'm thinking of you, though, dreaming of you, and waiting for the day I get to hold you again.

Yours always,  
Len

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

I almost feel like I should thank you for taking the heat off me and my propensity to end up in sick bay. But not at the expense of Bones', and my own, peace of mind. That was not a fun forty-seven hours until Bones could talk to Philip on vidcomm and find out how you _really_ were. I honestly thought I was going to have to sedate him for awhile. I also may be in a little hot water with the admiralty about how I got us to the outpost, but it was worth it.

You gave us quiet a scare, old man. I'm beyond relieved that you are going to be okay and that once again Bones was able to pull a miracle out of his ass to get you fixed up. He says it will take time and the treatment he devised was a little rough... I can attest to part of that even though I was simply donating. Not that I didn't do it gladly, but fuck that hurt. I'm not unconvinced that Bones may have possibly made it hurt on purpose... to get back at me for all of my trips to sickbay. I wouldn't put it past him.

Anyway, I know you won't be up to reading this for awhile, but I just wanted to let you know I was thinking about you and don't rush your recovery. Seriously, Bones doesn't need any more gray hairs. Now, I'm off to play chess with Spock. I'm getting closer to beating him every time we play. He's a much more worthy opponent than Bones, who, obviously, should stick to medicine. I still miss our games though, and hope we can play again in person soon.

Take care of yourself,  
Jim

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

We left the outpost yesterday, all ship-shape and ready for the rest of our charting run. The engineers they sent to re-attach whatever bit had broken off the communications array were scratching their heads at how a random piece of space debris had so neatly snapped off that one piece of the ship without damaging anything else around it. I know Jim's had a couple of vidcomms from admirals who are none too pleased about the suspicious timing of the malfunction, but I'm not worried. They won't be able to prove anything, if I know anything about Jim and Scotty. When those two put their heads together, it's a truly frightening thing.

I'm so glad I got to say hello to you, even if only briefly, and even if you were pretty out of it. It's been hell, being so far away while you underwent a serious medical procedure. But everything still looks great, and you should make a full recovery. Knowing you, you'll recover far quicker than you have any right to. Don't push it too hard, though, all right? You'll get there, I promise. And this time there shouldn't be any more relapses, god willing.

While I was at the outpost I had a chance to have a couple vidcomm sessions with Dr. Pagao as well. It's been helpful, Chris. I had my doubts, and yeah, I should know better, but as we both know, feelings aren't always rational. Anyway, we've talked about a lot of stuff, mostly all the crap from before I knew you, but it's kind of good to unload it, you know? I thought rehashing it all would just hurt more - and it does, don't get me wrong, but then after it's over I feel lighter.

Then this morning - Chris, I delivered a baby. Ensign Haddad went into labor at 0200, and at 1032 she gave birth to a baby girl. Mother and child are both healthy as anything, and the baby's already got a powerful set of lungs. She's so beautiful, Chris. She's got a full head of black hair, and gorgeous dark eyes. The ensign named her Akilah. I guess it means "logical" or "one who reasons" in Arabic, and it's a tribute to the loss of Vulcan. Spock and Lt. Uhura have been by to visit, and I can see how touched he is, even if he tries to pretend otherwise. It would take a heart of goddamn stone not to fall in love with that little girl. Anyway, what I'm trying to say, badly, is that - well, I might be ready to think about becoming a father. I'm not ready to commit to it, but - God, Chris, just imagining how _you'd_ look holding a little baby girl or boy of our own, it stirs things in me that I thought were dead. Just please - don't pressure me about it, all right? I'm happy to talk about it, but I need some time to consider the idea before I'm ready to decide, okay?

Well, I'm writing this from my office in sickbay. I'm on duty, and I've gotta go check up on mama and baby, so I'll write more later. I hope you're doing well. I love you, Chris, always.

Yours,  
Len

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

Hope you're feeling better. You should be up and around by now - I'm still getting daily comms on your progress but since we're back out in the black, they're on a week delay again. It's goddamned irritating, is what it is. But there's nothing we can do about it.

Had a question for you - two actually. But the first one is, do you happen to know anyone who might be willing to go out to my place in Georgia and just open it up, air it out a bit, maybe lay in some supplies for us? No one's lived there in years and I haven't had a caretaker for the place, so I'm not sure what kind of shape it's in. I wasn't sure if maybe Annie would be willing - I'd pay for whatever supplies needed to be bought, and I'd pay her for her time too, of course. Or maybe she knows somebody? If not, don't worry, I'll figure something out. I don't want us to waste any of our time together doing something as mundane as cleaning up and doing repairs on an old house.

Second question; I actually asked you already but I don't think you ever answered. It was about Jim. For a while, when you were going through your surgery and I was freaking out about that, things went back to normal between us. But now, he's acting weird and distant again. I swear he's avoiding me, and he won't look me in the eye. Doesn't spend half the time with me that he used to, and when he does he's acting strange - stilted and unnatural. I don't know what to make of it. I've asked him flat out whether I did something to upset or offend him, and he says no. Then I ask him what's going on and why he's acting this way, and he tries to pretend that he doesn't know what I'm talking about. He's a hell of a good liar when it comes to bluffing alien leaders (just last week he prevailed in a pissing match with some hostile alien general by pretending that if they attacked us, we'd self-destruct and it'd blow up some imaginary substance on the ship that would take out half the galaxy, or some damn thing), but when it comes to his friends, the man couldn't fib to save his life. Something's up. Something's changed, and damned if I know what. Chris - do you have any idea? I'm not accusing you of anything, I swear it. I just don't know if maybe you said something to him that he might have taken the wrong way? I don't know. I'm grasping at straws here, but he's pulling away from me, and, well, you know how well I take it when the people I love do that.

In happier news. It's mid-March now - back on earth, at my place in Georgia, the trees would all be in full blossom. That's my favorite time of year. Someday we'll have to spend blossom season together in Georgia. The scent is just out of this world. But even better, that means it's not too long until June, when we'll be back together on earth, and all of those trees will have set fruit and be leafy and gorgeous, just perfect for picnics. June's warm in Georgia, but it's downright pleasant compared to July or August. So it should be just about ideal timing for us to be there, really.

I'm looking forward to meeting your parents, Chris, even though it also scares the hell out of me. And I'm looking forward to going with you as your date to Matthew's wedding. He seemed like a good kid when I met him at your birthday dinner. So tell me, darlin', do you get misty at weddings? Should I bring an extra pocket handkerchief to slip you when they're saying their vows? Being a manly southerner, of course I'd never do anything so silly as get all emotional at a wedding. Oh, hell, who am I kidding, I'll probably bawl like a baby. I always get tearful at weddings. God, my family used to tease me about it something fierce. As if half of 'em didn't do the same damn thing, and I don't just mean the female half.

Well, I think that's about it from here right now. Whenever you're feeling up to it, write to me and let me know how you're doing, okay? I think about you all the time, darlin'. I love you.

Yours,  
Len

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

I'm dictating this to text. I know you would rather hear my voice -- I really don't have much more than a whisper right now from being in that medically induced coma for so long. So it's probably going to take me a week or so to finish this. So excuse the time shifts.

I'm doing okay. I'm more tired than I've ever been in my life, but the docs say that will improve fairly quickly as long as I rest. I cannot tell you how many times they have told me that. So I'm trying. The headaches are lessening, and even though I'm feeling very stiff all over, the numbness and tingling sensations are completely gone. Haven't been allowed out of bed yet; they are waiting to make sure they won't need to do more of the treatment protocol you designed.

I don't really remember anything that happened. I remember eating in the mess, first time in a couple days, as I had been vomiting -- I later learned that was a symptom of what was happening to me. I remember going back to my quarters. I sat down at my desk to get some work done and next thing I know, it's over a week later and I'm waking up at the starbase with I swear to god fifty doctors surrounding me. I remember them asking me a couple simple questions which I could barely whisper an answer to and then I was out again.

I think the day I talked to you, or should I say, saw you on vidcomm, was the first time I was awake after that. I don't remember much of that either. I was just glad to see you and hear your voice.

Now it's four days since I started this. My voice still isn't back, but I'm typing slowly. I've walked from my biobed to the bathroom, but God, Len, it's back to feeling like I've run a marathon when I do that. I've talked to Philip on vidcomm and he promises that even though I'm going to be tired for a few months, I'll be running on the treadmill again pretty quickly, and better than I was before. Right now, I'm having a hard time believing that. Fuck, this paragraph took me almost fifteen minutes to finish.

I think I'm going to stop. I'm getting frustrated and -- Well, I think you know. I'm probably trying too hard, but I just wanted to write you back since I've gotten several comms from you. I promise I'll answer them as soon as I'm able.

I love you, Len. Thank you for saving my life again in more ways than just with the procedure.

Love you so much,  
Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

I'm torn - one the one hand, it's so goddamned good to hear from you, to know you're okay. On the other hand, I don't want you to push yourself too hard and make yourself worse just so you can comm me.

I know that it's frustrating, but Philip's right. Your recovery this time is going to be so much faster than it was before. By the time we see each other in June, you should be at least back to feeling as good as you were when you took command of the Exeter, if not even better.

I hate not being there. I hate it, Chris. I feel goddamned useless. Shit, sorry. This isn't about me. You're going to be just fine, darlin', I swear it. And when we see each other you're going to run circles around me - or, more likely, and much more fun, you're going to make love to me for hours and hours on end.

I love you too, Chris. Being with you makes life worth living for me. So promise me you'll take good care of yourself, all right?

Yours forever,  
Len

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

You were right. It wasn't as bad as last time, not even close, considering I'm back on the Exeter and doing better than most of the last couple of months I was on her. As much as I wanted to write you, I just took your advice and just pretty much did nothing but sleep and go to p.t. and honestly did nothing that would come close to stressing myself out. Not that writing you stresses me out, but when my fingers weren't quite doing what my mind wanted, or vice versa -- It was just discouraging.

So yeah, I'm back on my ship finishing my recovery here. I won't be back on any kind of duty for a couple more weeks, but Philip doesn't even think I'll need to return under light duty or split shifts again. I would say I didn't believe him, but considering last time I wrote you I could barely make it to the bathroom and now I can walk several miles on the treadmill -- Well, I almost believe it. I am being very careful, though, and doing exactly what the docs and Philip say. I guess it makes sense when the procedure was on something that basically allows me to move and my brain to function -- Well, if rest helps my body recover quicker, I've been doing it. I certainly want to be in tip top shape when I see you in June.

Speaking of June and your question. I am absolutely positive that Annie would be glad to get your place back in order. I swear that woman thrives on doing things like that. Besides my place, she takes care of the other houses my parents have and a couple other friends' places. She's always going and opening them up and cleaning before the seasons start. I will comm her and we'll work out the details.

As far as crying at weddings? Well, in the past, I have not gotten emotional. I have been to many weddings, I have performed many weddings -- Granted this will be different because it's my godson, but mostly it will be different because of you. What I'm trying to say, and badly as usual, is that it might be a good idea to bring that extra handkerchief.

I would love to show you my ranch in Mojave, but honestly, Len, June is not the time to visit. That's one reason Annie will be more than glad to escape, even to Georgia. I'm sure it's warm there, but nothing compared to the desert in June. June is the hottest month. Next time we are on shore leave though, I will certainly take you to _our_ home.

Okay, I'm trying to run through these comms. I might need another one to fully catch up. As good as I'm feeling, I get tired pretty quickly, but I'm fine to keep going for bit longer. I promise.

I looked back at the last few comms that Jim and I sent to each other. Len, I know I may not communicate well to you, but Jim and I, we kind of speak the same language, and I honestly don't see anything I could have said that he would take the wrong way. If you want, I'll send mine to you and you can take a look. He seemed fine when I talked to him on vidcomm when you were re-supplying. He seemed a little tired -- a little more stressed than usual. Now, the last comm I got from him was a little -- I don't know, I guess the word you used, stilted, sums it up. He just didn't seem like himself. The words were there, and I could see him trying to be him, but he just wasn't. I'm sure he'll get over it. I'm sure what happened to me and how worried you were -- and frankly the last few months couldn't have been easy on him. Maybe he just needs some space to regroup. I wouldn't worry about it. I'm sure he'll be back to driving you crazy soon enough.

Well, honey. I'm getting to that point where I need to stop. I will write you again tomorrow though and finish up the rest of what I missed.

I love you, honey. I'm so lucky to have you in my life.

Always,  
Chris

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Hey honey,

Sorry it ended up being a couple of days. I've been especially wiped the last two for some reason, which Philip tells me is normal. I'm a little tired of sleeping though if that makes sense. I swear when I bring up a concern I can almost answer for him now. "That's normal, Chris. Listen to your body." Well, I'm waiting for the time when my body starts listening to _me_ again. Yeah, yeah, I'm getting a bit impatient again, but I'm listening. Really I am.

Now, back to all those unanswered comms. I just want to say, so you don't think I'm ignoring it, that last comm you sent me after we had the counseling session. I don't think I'm quite ready to bring up our issues yet, but I agree that I don't want to stop writing you. I've talked to Dr. Elliott since then, and I think we both took her too literally when she was throwing out suggestions. She sees nothing wrong with us continuing to write. She just feels we shouldn't make any 'life-changing plans,' as she put it, until we've made progress on those issues. I do agree with that. We already both have a lot of baggage coming into this relationship. I also want to believe that when we've both dealt with _that,_ the issues that we do have aren't going to seem so insurmountable. Did I explain that all right, honey?

I'm shaking my head now reading my last comm before I got so sick. I can't believe I forgot about that bottle of red wine. I can see it clear as day now, but I swear -- Some of those words I wrote don't even seem familiar to me. I swear at one point in that comm I was going to write you, 'next time I'm at your farm in Georgia' -- I was convinced I'd already been there. Maybe just from that dream or what you told me about it. But I seriously was convinced I'd been to your place in Georgia, Len. That was kind of scary, but at least I realized I hadn't before I'd said anything.

Speaking of Georgia. I already heard back from Annie. She's thrilled to help. So if you want to forward me all the info, I can pass it on to her or you can contact her directly. Whichever you prefer. Just let me know. She's so excited to meet you and happy to do this for us.

I bet I can tell you which two admirals are hounding Jim. Don't worry, Barnett and Archer will go to bat for Jim. These particular two admirals never liked me much, so unfortunately that makes Jim an easy target. Their bark is worse than their bite because frankly, no one really listens to them. If for some reason there _is_ a problem, let me know. I have ways of dealing with them. Believe me.

I don't even know how to explain how I feel about -- Well, about Jim doing that for me. Of course I know he did it more for you, but still, it means a lot. I obviously owe Scotty a bottle or twelve of his favorite poison too, so let me know. I can arrange to get that to him when we are on earth in June. Money is no object.

I have not laughed so much in -- Well, I think the last time I laughed that hard was when I was with you on earth in October. That story you told about the latest rumors? Fuck, Len. I'm laughing just thinking about it. Yes, you have mentioned Chapel before, but I knew her and have worked with her before. She's a gem. You're lucky to have her.

I'm glad things are going well with Dr. Pagao. Yeah, talking about the past isn't easy, but I'm finding the more I do -- It does weigh less heavily on you. Dr. Rossen thinks my PTSD will improve greatly if I'm truly free of the bug and what it did to me. I won't have that constant reminder, the pain, the disabilities. Now, I'm not saying you didn't fix everything, Len, so please don't take offense. I think I just need a little time to believe that -- That something isn't going to come up again. Or there aren't still toxins hiding somewhere in my brain just waiting. I know nothing is guaranteed, but give me some time to believe that it's really gone, okay?

Speaking of believing. I know you aren't religious, but I've told you I say a prayer now and then. When I read about the baby you delivered and what you said after. God, Len. I'm not going to push you. I'm not going to pressure you, but reading that -- I had tears falling down my face, Len. Not just because of the possibility that I might have a child someday, but because _you_ could finally see it as something you might deserve. To me, that was a beautiful, beautiful gift, and an answered prayer.

Well, I think I've covered everything. If I missed something, just remind me. I'm still not quite functioning on all thrusters, as Philip has been teasing me by saying. Still, I feel like a new man, Len, and fuck, it feels amazing.

Counting the days until I can see you.

I love you.

Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Hey Darlin',

Glad to hear you're feeling better, even if not 100% yet. Good lord, Chris, you've got no idea what a relief it is that the procedure went smoothly and that your recovery is proceeding so well, especially given that I'm not there to oversee it personally. It's been driving me a little crazy. Philip's been really damn patient with my constant comms and requests for information. He's a good man, Chris. I feel better knowing you've got him there with you.

Thanks for talking to Annie. I'll let you handle the logistics with her, if it's not too much trouble. I'm attaching the contact info for my parents' estate attorney to this comm - she's got the keys (yes, old-fashioned key locks), alarm codes, and so forth. I've sent her a separate comm authorizing both you and Annie to act on my behalf with regard to the property. Just so you know, I also asked her to put together a will for me that names you as my beneficiary. Some things will go to Jim, and a few family heirlooms to my cousin Pamela, but other than that, it's yours. Now, don't argue with me on this. It's my stuff to do with as I please, and I want you to have it. Not that I plan on having anything happen to me anytime soon. I'll want to drop by the lawyer's office when we're in town and get everything all signed and official. As you said to me once, having my affairs in order gives me peace of mind.

As far as the wedding, I'll load up on handkerchiefs, and during the vows I'll probably be squeezing your hand so tight my knuckles will be white. Just kick me if I start to cut off your circulation, all right, darlin'? I can't wait to dance with you at the reception. It'll remind me of the Officers' Ball, and how I felt on that night.

It's all right that we can't go to your ranch this visit - it was probably too much to try to fit in anyway, given that we've only got what, two weeks or so that we'll overlap on Earth? But at some point, I really would like to see it, to see the desert through your eyes. Whenever you think would be good.

Thanks for checking your comms with Jim to see if there was anything odd in there. I know you two understand each other, so I didn't have much hope that it was anything like that. I don't know, Chris. He's still acting weird. Spock's his new best friend and he'll barely look at me, but when he does he looks so sad and guilty. I'll take your advice and give him some room right now, but if he's still acting like this after shore leave in June, I'm going to get to the bottom of it no matter what it takes. And I think it might take a Centaurian slug. Sorry. Just my gallows humor.

All right, so we both took Dr. Elliott too literally. We'll work on our own shit, and just be gentle with each other in the meantime, until we can really dig into the issues between us. Is that about the size of it? I don't know about this "no life-changing plans" business, because - well, if there's anything that I've learned, especially in the last few months, it's that everything can change in a moment, and there's no guarantees in life. I don't want to defer anything until some theoretical date in the future when we've somehow "fixed" all of our issues. Maybe I'm being too literal again.

Good god, Chris, it must have been scary as hell when you realized your memory was playing tricks on you. I'm sorry you had to go through that. At least for me, that scares me much more than losing physical ability - losing my mental abilities. You've been incredibly strong throughout this whole ordeal, Chris, and I just want you to know that I have noticed and that I think you're amazing. I do understand why you're still reluctant to let yourself believe that it's all over. Hopefully time will bear out your doctors’ predictions and you'll feel more confident.

I'll convey to Jim your offer to help with the nasty admirals if he needs it. I swear, Starfleet politics. I'm damn relieved that I'm only tangentially involved with it all. I'm even more relieved that I've got both you and Jim in my corner if the shit ever hits the fan. You two could probably stage a coup and take over the Federation if you put your minds to it. Not that you would, or that I'd want you to. That kind of power is a damn sight more trouble than it's worth, if you ask me.

Jim did what he did to get to the Federation outpost just as much for you as for me. He'd tear the world apart for anyone he loves, and you and I are lucky enough to be on that very short list. I know you feel the same about both of us, and obviously I feel the same way about both of you, not that I've got a starship at my command. Still, if either of you ever needed anything that was mine to give, I hope you know you'd have it, no questions asked.

Scotty, none too surprisingly, drinks Scotch. I'm not much of a Scotch drinker myself, so I don't know what's good, but I'm sure any kind of fine Scotch would make him a very happy chief engineer indeed.

I'm glad you're enjoying the stories of the rumors. I swear to god, Chris, it's like we're starring in a holo-novela series with the way people are speculating about our love life. What did they used to call 'em - soap operas? Odd name, but anyway, it's like that. Christine tells me that the latest speculation is that you had an affair with Jim's mother back in the day and that Jim's actually your son. Not that I'd believe it for even a second, but you two are as alike as two peas in a pod, so I can see why people would think that. So anyway, now apparently you two are the tragically separated father and son, and even more tragically, you've now both fallen for the same man. Yeah, that'd be me. I don't know, Chris. I can only shake my head. Jim's taken to calling me "step-mom" - that is, when he's talking to me at all. I swear, Chris, if my life were any more bizarre I'd just give up and join the circus.

I'm glad that the story about baby Akilah and her mom and my reaction to it made you so happy. They're both still doing great. Ensign Haddad is on maternity leave now, and when we get back to earth she's going to take an extended leave of absence to be with the baby, then probably take a planetside posting. Spock still spends a lot of time with the baby, and he's already trying to teach her mathematics even though she's only a few weeks old. She just looks at him with those huge eyes as if he's the most fascinating thing she's ever seen. Well, given that she hasn't seen that much yet, he probably is. I see mama and baby every few days just to check up on both of them, make sure everything's okay. I can't fathom being a single parent - I mean I know folks do it every day, but damn, it's tough. She's coping all right, though.

Are you back on duty now? If so, how's that been? Did Sato and the rest of your bridge crew keep everything running smoothly, and are they as glad to have you back up and running as I am?

Well, I think that's about it for now, and I'm on duty in an hour, so I'd better get my ass in gear. Stay well, and know that I'm thinking about you always. I love you, darlin'.

Yours,  
Len

  



	17. Such Quantities of Sand (Part 17 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know the drill: the further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike. And Jim.

_**Trek Fic: Such Quantities of Sand (Pike/McCoy, PG)**_  
 **Title:** Such Quantities of Sand (Part 17 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** PG  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** around 6200  
 **Summary:** You know the drill: the further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike. And Jim.  
 **A/N:** From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) : My bb boy is the cutest, smartest little thing EVAR. That's apropos of absolutely NOTHING, but I just felt the need to say it. I'm such a stereotypical proud mama. :p From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/): Sorry for the delay on this one. Life BITES.

  


To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

God, it's been a long week. Yes, I'm back on duty. Full time. Beta shift. It feels fantastic. We're currently finishing up laying some sensor arrays along three of the systems borders to better alert to pirates in the future. Our replacement ship will be here next week, and we'll spend a week with its commander briefing them and then we'll re-supply at the starbase and head to the neutral zone. All in all, despite the time I missed, it's been a complete success out here. I couldn't be more proud of my crew. I'm recommending all of my command team for commendations when we're earthside in June, three of them especially, led by Sato. Despite our rough start, we've really become a cohesive team, along with my other two command reserves.

I've been making sure to get up early enough to eat in the mess with alpha shift. Then I've been hitting the gym for p.t. and a workout and then eat again with beta before I start. Most days, I've been hitting the mess at least once during dinner. I've been using lunch to catch up on paperwork. Commander Sato was kind enough to leave me a ton of it, not sure how much else I'd be up to doing when I got back. I don't mind at all. It's helping me get my mind back where it should be. But don't worry, I've been having a yeoman bring my lunch to me.

After shift, I've been hitting the gym to swim laps. I'm finding that doesn't tire me out as much as the treadmill for some reason. Then it's more paperwork, answering comms, and then bed. I've been taking Sundays off almost completely, though, except for swimming and an hour or two of paperwork. I spend most of it in the common areas, trying to be available for my crew. Have a few games of chess going with several crewmembers, another good thing to get my mind back in the game.

So yeah, that's my life at the moment. Honestly, that's about all I can handle right now. I'm still sleeping more than I usually do. Philip says that will probably continue another three or four months, so I'm warning you now, I'll probably need _a lot_ of sleep when I'm earthside with you, especially after you tire me out in bed.

Speaking of June. I sent Annie all the information and she's already been in contact with your parents' estate attorney. She's already planning a trip out there next month to take a look to make sure there aren't any major repairs that need to be done, so she can hire people to take care of that if needed. I already paid for her shuttle ticket to do that, and she'll put any expenses on the line of credit account I have set up for her. After I did it, I thought, fuck, this is probably one of those things I should have asked you first. I warned you I'm like this. I just do things without thinking sometime. If it's _not_ okay, I promise I won't take offense if you want me to change her plans. I thought it was just something that I could take care of for you. I'm thinking we should see about hiring a caretaker too at some point. Again, if I'm overstepping my bounds, just let me know. I just want to make this as easy as possible for you, Len. I know it's not going to be easy for you to face, and I just thought -- Well, I just want to help.

As far as my ranch, yeah, I definitely want you to see it. I know the Exeter isn't getting holiday leave this year. We're heading out to deep space after shore leave. From July to January we're going to be mapping so far out it's going to take almost two weeks to get there. I don't even want to think how long our comms are going to take or if we'll even be able to at all. I'm thinking not, but since we're going to be out so long, I'm requesting we set up a relay station on the edge. I'm sure they will grant it. They usually do if you're out for more than forty five days. That thirty you were out of range with the Enterprise was just unbearable.

But yeah, I'm assuming we'll get some kind of shore leave in January or February when we get back. It might not be on earth though, but hopefully we can figure out a way to see each other then. I looked to see if the Enterprise's new mission plan had been posted yet for after shore leave, but it hasn't. Since you're getting back a week later than us, I'm assuming it should be up anytime now. Ours was just finalized two days ago. So I'll let you know when I see it.

I got all choked up at you adding me to your will. I did tell you I already added you to mine, right? My mind still is unclear on some things and I'm too tired to search my old comms. Right now, the ranch is set to go to Annie if anything happens to me, only because, well, she loves it and she's been so good about taking care of it for the last fifteen years after her husband passed. They never had kids, so that ranch and those animals have been her 'babies' all this time. You should know though, that I have substantial assets, and when I revised everything last year, it's pretty evenly divided up to you, Jim, my godchildren, and a salary and a credit line for Annie to run the ranch for the rest of her life. So just so you know, that's where that stands. Again, I can't remember if we talked about this or not, so let me know if any of this is an issue.

I think what Dr. Elliott was referring to as 'life changing' was my continued thoughts that I would resign. I don't think you realize how close I was to doing that, Len. I had actually sent Admiral Barnett a resignation letter at one point. He convinced me to give it another few months' consideration. I actually argued with him, but he refused to accept it. He said he'd date it effective three months from the time I sent it. That three months was up yesterday. I'm so glad he made me do that, to give it more time. Not that he wasn't smug about it when he commed me to see what I wanted him to do with it. Bastard.

I think everything is smoothed over with Jim and the admiralty. I asked Richard about it when he commed me a couple days ago, and he told me not to worry about it. He didn't elaborate, but if he says not to worry about it, that's as good as saying Jim has nothing to worry about. I had to chuckle about you talking about Jim and I taking over the federation. The crew just watched the classic Star Wars trilogy and I was reminded of Darth Vader asking Luke to join him so they could rule the galaxy together. For one thing, I would never do it, just on the amount of paperwork alone it would probably involve.

The rumors on the Enterprise continue to amuse me. I don't know if it's because it's my ship that I don't hear any here, or what. I'm sure there are plenty around here. Commander Sato did ask me about the crystal once that was lying on my desk in my quarters when we were having a meeting one night. This was awhile ago, I don't remember exactly when. And I gave her my best grin and told her it was so you could keep an eye on me and that it was supposed to put a curse on anyone that dared to try to break our commitment. Did I mention she stopped wearing the 'dress' anytime she came to my quarters after that? If she forgot we were meeting, she always changed into pants first. I found that more than amusing.

Well, I'd better wrap this up. We're having a party on the observation deck for our Chief Engineer who's turning fifty tomorrow. And in case you were wondering, yes, he and Sato are still fucking. If I didn't know any better, I'd say they were getting serious.

Let me know how you're doing, honey. I miss you.

Love you!

Chris

To: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Jim,

Haven't heard from you in awhile and just wanted to see how you were doing. I'm doing pretty fantastic. Feeling like a new man. Back on duty full time, getting things wrapped up in this sector before we head to the neutral zone for two months.

Looking forward to being earthside in June. Len and I have made a lot of plans, but I want to make sure I get to see you while I'm there other than at command meetings and briefings. The best time would be the weekend the Enterprise arrives, before you start debriefing on Monday. I have a wedding to attend on Saturday, but let me know what's good for you that weekend. Maybe we could even play that game of chess. Len and I will be leaving for the east coast on Monday or Tuesday, after he's done debriefing, to see my parents and then we're going to his place in Georgia. I will probably be back a couple days before the Exeter leaves though, so if that is better for you, just let me know.

Speaking of visiting my parents, that Friday night, we're celebrating my parents' fifty-fifth wedding anniversary. I would love for you to come and meet them. I've told them a lot about you over the years. I know the entire family would be thrilled to meet you too. So think about it and let me know.

Take care of yourself, son, and let me know what you're up to.

Love,  
Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

Yeah, sorry I haven't written lately. Been busy and I swear the paperwork involved in charting new territories... well, you know. Have been playing a lot of chess with Spock in my spare time. Can beat him half the time now, so that's been taking up most of my free time. It really helps me to de-stress though, those matches with him.

Not sure I'm going to be around much during shore leave. I plan on doing my debriefings and taking off, maybe to India or Southeast Asia or somewhere I can be alone and get lost and not have anyone recognize me. If anywhere on earth like that even exists anymore. Maybe we can do something that first weekend on Sunday morning. Otherwise, as soon as I'm done with Starfleet that week, I'm outta there. Just me and my motorbike and whatever dirt road I can find in the middle of nowhere.

Thank you for inviting me to your parents' anniversary party, but I'm hoping to be done with Starfleet by Wednesday at the latest and then I'm taking a one-way shuttle to the most desolate port I can find. I feel honored you asked me, sir. Give your parents my regards.

I'm glad to hear you sounding so good, sir. It's a huge relief to me. I'd wish you good luck in the neutral zone, but I know you know what you're doing.

Take care,  
Jim

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

You'd asked how I'm doing. The truth is, I'm having a tough time. I'm - I don't know, I guess I'm just feeling sorry for myself. I miss you, Chris. Being apart from you is even harder than I thought it'd be, and ever since our fight... it feels different between us. It feels awkward and distant, like we're walking on eggshells with each other, and I hate it. It's me as much as you - your letters seem a little more factual than they were before, less emotional, but I've been afraid to say something because I know you don't like it when I seek reassurance, or make you say the words over and over instead of trusting that we're all right.

And Jim's not himself. I sat him down and told him that I didn't know what on earth I'd done to offend him, but could he please just tell me what it was or take a swing at me or _something_ so we could go back to being friends already? And since then - it's as if on the surface, things are back to how they were. He spends time with me. He jokes around with me. But Chris - it's like he's not there at all. I don't know if I can explain this, but he has this way of hiding in plain sight when he wants to. I'm getting the facade he shows the world, not the real Jim, and that's never happened with us before. But then I think, with everything going on, maybe I'm imagining things. Maybe it just needs time.

I don't have a lot of people in my life, Chris. You and Jim are pretty much the only ones that matter to me, and right now I feel like there's this horrible awkward distance with both of you that no one wants to admit to or talk about. I'm lonely, and it hurts. Anyway, please know that I'm not saying all this to make you feel guilty or to pressure you into saying something you don't want to say. And now, that's enough self-pity.

I'm really happy for you, darlin', that you're getting back to a routine and feeling so good. Good lord, Chris, I had no idea you were so seriously considering giving up your command. I know that your command means more to you than anything, and I'm sorry that I wasn't being more supportive, so you could've felt you had me to talk to about it. I owe Admiral Barnett my thanks, both for backing Jim, and for refusing to accept your resignation.

I'm imagining you swimming laps in the ship's pool, and damn, Chris, that's an image to give a man good dreams. On a medical level, that's a great form of exercise that's not too hard on your body. On a personal level, it's probably a good thing I'm not there to watch or you wouldn't even make it through one lap before I'd jump you. When we're earthside together, you sleep as much as you need, darlin'. I'll try not to tire you out too much, but no promises.

If it hasn't rotted away, there's a double hammock out in a really peaceful spot by the stream on my property. I'd love to spend some time in it with you, just holding you while you nap, feeling the breezes go by. Used to be one of my favorite spots for daydreaming as a boy.

Speaking of my property, the arrangements you've made sound perfect, Chris. Let me pay you back for anything you've spent, though, okay? I hate that kind of logistical planning, so anytime you want to take that kind of thing off my hands, you'll get no complaints from me.

You'd mentioned before that you'd made arrangements for the apartment to be mine if anything happened, but I don't think you mentioned the rest of the will. I'm touched, Chris, I really am. Of course Annie should get your ranch. I'm looking forward to meeting her. Hope she won't be too offended when I kick her out shortly after we arrive so I can have you all to myself, though.

The Star Wars movies, eh? Here's where I have to admit to being a philistine and say I've never seen them. Jim's constantly after me to watch them, but I figure, I spend every day actually traveling through space and quite a few of those days dealing with evil empires - why on earth would I want to spend my free time watching some centuries-old made-up version? If it's important to you, though, I'm sure I could be persuaded. Just so you know, I accept home-cooked meals and blowjobs as currency.

I'll be really relieved if they do set up a relay station when you head out into deep space. That thirty days was no fun on my side either, and I don't really want to do that again anytime soon, or ever, if at all possible. If we can meet up for shore leave in January or February that'll be great. I guess we'll see when it gets closer.

So we got our mission plan for after this upcoming shore leave - we're going to be patrolling the neutral zone almost the whole time. The Enterprise was built for exploration, but after losing so many ships, I guess they've got to curtail those plans a bit and worry about defending the home front. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. Jim's disappointed, but he understands the practicalities. As much as anything else, the Enterprise is a symbol, and it makes people feel better to have it between them and the federation's enemies.

I had to laugh at Commander Sato's reaction to your telling her what the crystal did. And Chris, she told someone, and someone from your ship is communicating with someone from the Enterprise (besides us, I mean) because now the rumors are that somehow the ring acts as a crystal ball so that you can see everything that goes on through it, and that it'll - I don't know, magically curse or zap anyone who pisses you off. And everyone thinks you're violently possessive of me, and now they're afraid to get anywhere near me in case they incur your wrath. I'd be more amused if it didn't make my job damn near impossible. I'm a doctor, dammit, and I need to be able to touch people and get near them in order to treat them, but the way everyone shies away from me it's like I've got some horrible and highly contagious disease. Still, every rumor seems to fade after about a week to be replaced by a new one, so I guess I've just got to wait this one out.

Well, I think that's about it, so I'll say goodbye for now. Eight more weeks until we see each other, if I'm counting right. I love you, darlin'. You'll never know how much.

Yours always,  
Len

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

First of all, let me make this absolutely clear so you have nothing to doubt. I love you. I love you more than words can possibly express. I'm going to spend the rest of my life with you, and _only_ you. You are the only one I want to touch, to kiss, and make love to. God willing, you're the only one that will ever do the same to me. All of this, I give you my word on. I'm sorry, honey, that I made you question any of that.

You're right in some ways. I do feel like I'm walking on eggshells. There are things I want to talk about, fears and problems I'm having -- Yet most of them would -- How do I say it? Well, they would probably make you feel worse than you already do. They are issues in my mind. My problem. My demons I need to exorcise. I don't think I have to tell you that the last two years since the Narada incident -- Well, they've been a nightmare in some ways. The only good thing that came out of it was you. Now, I finally feel like I'm waking up from that nightmare and I'm not exactly sure who I am right now, if that makes sense. I hope it does, and I hope that my saying this as badly as I probably am doesn't make you doubt anything I said above. It shouldn't. I'm just -- I can't explain exactly how I'm feeling. I'm trying to figure it out, though. I promise.

I completely get what you're saying about Jim now. I hadn't heard from him since shortly after you left the outpost during my procedure. So I sent him a quick note and he wrote me back, or someone wrote me back, because it certainly wasn't Jim. I don't know what to tell you, Len. He's obviously going through something. I wish I could tell you what. I'm worried about him though. He's talking about taking off for what sounds like all of his shore leave -- He talked about finding someplace to go where no one would recognize him. I even invited him to my parents' anniversary party, and he declined. He may just be having a delayed reaction to everything that happened. That kid carries a lot on his young shoulders, and he never lets anyone else help him carry it. Maybe this is just his way of coping right now. I only wish it wasn't bothering you so much. I'm sorry, Len. I don't know what to do to help.

God, I'm looking forward to spending a lazy week in Georgia with you. I think that's all we'll be able to manage. I figure we'll be in San Francisco at least until Tuesday when you're done with all the odds and ends you have to take care of with Starfleet. I told my parents to expect us from Wednesday to Friday, but we'll head there as soon as you're done at headquarters. I made reservations at a nice hotel near their house. Don't worry, we won't be spending all our time there with them. Boca Raton has some beautiful beaches and I figure we could take a day trip down to Miami or up to West Palm Beach and do some shopping and eat all the amazing food they have. How does that sound, honey?

Saturday, I figure we'll head over to Georgia. Annie will have it all stocked and ready for us. I'm going to warn you, I already authorized her to do whatever she needs to do. If it needs painting or siding or anything, I told her to get it done. She'll be out there next week so I'll let you know. I also told her to make sure that hammock you talked about was in good shape and if not, to replace it. That sounds like it would be heaven to lie in with you, listening to the sound of the water nearby. Maybe you can even teach me how to fish, like you talked about before.

So I figure we'll have about a week there. I'm due back at headquarters on Monday to make final preparations for the Exeter to leave on Wednesday. Of course, I'll probably have to take care of some things when we're in Georgia so I can spend that extra time with you there, but it shouldn't be too much. Mostly just paperwork and a few conference comms with my bridge crew. Really, I'll have most of it done already since I'm arriving home almost a week before you.

Hopefully, you'll have enough to do after I leave. I know how you are with idle time. Maybe it will be a good time to work on that paper on the new procedure you invented for me. Although knowing you, you've already written it.

I hope this isn't out of line, but I don't want you to have to worry about paying me back, Len. I know that Jocelyn took almost every penny from you in the divorce, and I know you had to pay a sizable chunk of alimony to her until recently. So please, if you honestly feel you need to pay me back, I guess I can let you. But believe me, it's no burden for me, and I'm glad to do this for you, for _us_. Something else I was going to mention to you too but I wasn't sure how to bring it up. With the extra time you'll have at our place in the city -- I know you brought a few things from home, but if there is anything you want to do there to make it more of a home to _you_ , please, feel free. I didn't decorate it myself. I hired someone. I just wanted simple and practical, and honestly, that place doesn't reflect me at all in some ways. I guess the best way to explain would be it belongs to Chris the Starfleet officer, whereas my ranch is Chris the person. I guess when you see my ranch for the first time, you'll understand more. What I guess I'm trying to say, and badly as usual, is that I want you to make the apartment a home for you too. If you want a different couch, get a different couch. That place is more a necessity than a home. Yes, it's my place, and I feel comfortable there, but only because it's familiar, if that makes sense.

I told you before I'm just a simple man. I prefer blue jeans, a button-up, and a pair of comfortable sneakers to fancy clothes _most_ of the time. My ranch has an old pickup that used to run on gasoline over a hundred years ago -- now converted of course, but still, a relic. Sure, I can schmooze with the rich and snobby and the diplomats and politicians, but I'm more happy on my couch with bare feet and Sinatra crooning or one of my favorite Mozart symphonies playing. I'm not going to lie, though, there are things, expensive things, that I like and spare no expense on. I'm sure that makes me a little unusual. I like to travel, and when I've been on earth I have been pretty much all over the globe. I like fine wines, expensive suits, and old-fashioned wood-burning fireplaces. You could see when you were at our place that I like my electronic toys. And yes, a lot of those tech toys are at the ranch too now, but other than that, I guess I would have to call it pretty rustic. Not at all like the sparse contemporary feel of the place in the city.

I'm sorry you are having such a tough time right now. And I'm sorry for my part in the fact that you are. I hope you have been able to get some of it out in your comms to Dr. Pagao. I know it's not easy being able to vidcomm. I don't want you to think you can't talk to me about stuff, Len. You can. I'm not going to break anymore, and lately it seems like you're getting pretty close to that. You've been here for me these last two years, despite what you may think. I would never have made it through _any_ of this without you, Len. Truly. You say that I'm amazing and I was strong throughout this whole ordeal - well, part of that strength came from you and your love.

If you need to talk about anything, please, I'm here. I'm going to step on a limb here and ask you something. You've mentioned your mother and your grandmother a lot in your comms, Len. It's obvious that they and your grandfather are gone, and I'm sorry. If you don't want to talk about it, just tell me it's none of my business and I'll back off. If you want to though, I'm here. I love you, and I'm here.

Well, I'm completely out of energy now. I spent extra time in the mess with my crew after shift and I'm fading fast now.

I love you, Len. Please don't doubt that, honey.

Yours forever,  
Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

Thanks for the reassurance. Really, darlin', it means more than you know. It isn't that I doubted your love, or thought that there was anyone else - I didn't, at all. It's more that - I don't know, it feels like the closeness, the intimacy we had before, is gone, and I'm afraid we're never going to get it back, if that makes any goddamn sense. Before this whole nightmare began, I felt like I could tell you anything and I could just be myself and not worry that you were going to take it the wrong way. I think you felt that way with me. And now that's gone, and I miss it.

I want to figure out how we get back to where we used to be. You used to call yourself a "sappy old man" when you said something romantic, but Chris, I loved it. I want that again. I hate that you're feeling awkward with me, that you feel like you have to second-guess everything you say. I don't know what the answer is. I don't want you to just make unilateral decisions about the big things in our lives, but for the little stuff - Chris, I like it that you just sweep in and take care of that stuff. And, oh lord, this is kind of embarrassing, but I _really_ like it when you're pushy in bed. I don't want to give those things up. And for me - I don't know how you want me to be. You know now that my shameful secret is that I'm a mushy romantic at heart - can I still be like that, or do you find it off-putting?

So how do we fix this, whatever it is that's gone wrong between us? We know we don't want to hurt each other again. But Chris, just being so awkward around each other like we are, that's hurting me anyway. Talk about a no-win scenario.

I'm sorry, darlin', that you've been feeling like you're just now waking up from a nightmare. I won't patronize you by saying that I understand how you feel - I couldn't possibly. I know it's been awful, though. But I'm glad that you've found some comfort in my presence over the last two years, and please, if there's anything else I can do to help, let me know, all right?

Things are about the same with Jim. No better, but at least no worse. Yeah, he told me that was going to take a hoverbike trip through Asia, and not to expect many comms from him. He said he'd bring a communicator so if there was an emergency he could get help, but that he wanted to "get away from it all." What could I say, Chris? He's a grown man, and much as I might want to, I can't permanently implant a homing beacon and biomonitors on him.

The shore leave plans you've made sound amazing, Chris. I haven't spent much time in Florida, so I'll put myself into your very capable hands. Whatever you want to do there is fine with me. As long as I've got you with me, anything else is pretty damn secondary.

As to money, well, that's always a touchy subject, isn't it? Yeah, Jocelyn took pretty much everything in the divorce and until recently I've had alimony payments, but I also don't have many other expenses and my Starfleet salary is - well, not generous, but very reasonable. It's hard for me to accept "charity" - I know it isn't really charity, but us McCoys are pretty stiff-necked about taking money from anyone else. Still, I appreciate the offer, and I do feel like what's mine is yours, so I can see how you'd feel the same. I don't know, maybe we can split the expenses. We don't have to figure it out this moment, but I do appreciate the offer, Chris, really.

Also, thanks for the offer to make our place in the city feel more like "home." I'm not a big one for decorating, but if there's anything I happen to see on my travels or when I'm planetside that I feel like would make a nice addition to the apartment, I'll get it. I figured that the apartment didn't really represent you that much, and it's one of the reasons I really want to see the ranch. I'm curious to see what kind of home represents you as a man, rather than as a Starfleet officer.

I'm like you in preferring simple things, Chris. Jeans over a suit any day, for me. I've never ridden in an actual internal combustion car, or one that used to be. I'll look forward to that when we visit your ranch. I agree that some things are worth paying for - food and alcohol, for me, are worth spending money on. I like a simple meal as much as a gourmet one, but I prefer real ingredients, not the replicated garbage, and that can be goddamn expensive. Travel? It doesn't surprise me that you like it, and I don't mind it to a limited extent, but I'm pretty much a homebody. Once I'm retired, I plan to set down roots and not go gallivanting around the planet every week. But I'm sure we'll work something out; if you want to travel some then we'll do that too, of course.

Relaxing on a couch with you, music on in the background, both of us barefoot, in front of a wood-burning fire, though, that sounds like heaven to me. Which reminds me, I'd love for you to bring your guitar to Georgia. Now that I've seen and heard you play, I'm going to be after you to play for me at every possible opportunity, you know, darlin'.

All right, now the tough part of your comm. But first, Chris - you've gotta know, as long as I've got you, I'm not going to break. Also, I want you to feel like you can ask me anything, darlin'. Nothing's off limits between us, as far as I'm concerned, okay?

My mama died when I was in med school, in a shuttle accident. It was hard, as I'm sure you can imagine. For me, but also for my daddy. He loved my mama so much. He thought she hung the moon. After she was gone, he became just a shadow of his former self. I think that's part of the reason he didn't fight that hard when he fell ill a few years later. She was so quiet and calm, and so strong. She was the strongest of any of us, the one who held that family together. I miss her still. As traumatic as the circumstances of my daddy's death were, in a way it was harder losing my mama.

My grandparents. Let's see. My father's mother, her name was Margaret, died of Forrester-Trent syndrome when my daddy was a kid - would've been totally treatable, but she was afraid to see a doctor until it was too late. It's one of the reasons my daddy became a doctor - he felt like if he'd known the signs and symptoms, he would've recognized the disease and could've pushed her into getting treated. Of course, he was all of twelve or so at the time, but hell, I've got no room to throw stones about blaming yourself for not knowing or doing things you couldn't reasonably have known or done. My father's father's name was Geoffrey, but I called him Grandpa McCoy. He was a crazy, mean bastard - died of a stroke when I was about twelve and I think everyone was actually kind of relieved. My daddy never said anything, but I'm pretty sure Grandpa McCoy beat him and Grandma Margaret too, before she died.

On my mama's side, my mother's father Benjamin died of a brain aneurysm when my mama was 17, years before I was born. And my mother's mother died in a hovercar wreck. I was a teenager when it happened, and I remember my mama was really broken up about it. I was too, of course, but not like she was. Losing your mama is one of the hardest things there is, I think. That and losing a child. Anyway, if I've mentioned a grandmother, it would have been her, my Grandma Kamilla. She was something - she was a strong woman. I admired her.

Well, I think that's about it for now. I'm off to bed. This being apart, not even able to vidcomm you - it's driving me a little crazy. I miss you so much, darlin'. I love you. I always will.

Yours,  
Len

  



	18. He Did His Very Best (Part 18 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike. A revelation is made - ooooh.

_**Trek Fic: He Did His Very Best (Pike/McCoy, R)**_  
A VERY SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT: AHEM! With this section, we have now hit the 100,000 word mark on this fic! Holy CRAP! We're thrilled at the positive response we've gotten from all of you, and we hope to continue for many many thousands of words to come. ♥

 **Title:** He Did His Very Best (Part 18 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** R for language  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** around 4300  
 **Summary:** The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike. A revelation is made - ooooh.  
 **A/N:** From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) : Knock on wood, the next few parts should come out in fairly rapid succession. Hopefully. From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) : Yeah, but only because we've had them done for two weeks and just needed to edit. :P [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) : I don't know if we want to admit that - we might get stoned to death. [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/): Eh, they should be glad we had a cushion or they'd be getting nuttin!

  


To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Hey Darlin',

I was working on something in the lab just now, writing up - well, that doesn't matter. Anyway, something suddenly occurred to me. Chris, have you been worrying because you feel like maybe what's between us - our relationship, your feelings for me - are a side effect of the Centaurian slug's secretions?

Maybe I'm way off base, but re-reading your last comm, it seems like maybe that's what you were hinting at, the thing that you said would've made me feel worse if you told me. If so, please, _please_ listen to me and believe me. I've been doing a lot of research on that damn stuff. It can do a lot of things to the human system - it can give you physical symptoms like hand tremors and headaches, and it can cause your memory to play tricks on you. You've experienced all of that.

But one thing that goddamned shit _cannot_ do is affect your emotions or change your personality. It can't make you feel things that you don't, and it definitely can't create love where there wasn't any. Anything that you've felt since the Narada - that's all you, baby. I swear it.

I know that hearing it from me isn't the same as knowing it for yourself, and only time will give you that. I'll try to be patient while you take whatever time you need to feel sure that your emotions are your own. But I guarantee you, darlin', the love that's between us is 100% _us_ , and has nothing to do with that damned bug.

Am I crazy here? If so, please let me know. But if I'm right about this - shit, Chris, you shouldn't have had to suffer with this fear on your own. I'm sorry I didn't figure out sooner that you were thinking about this.

I love you, no matter what.

Yours,  
Len

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

You're right. You're absolutely right. I'm not quite ready to talk about it yet. I -- I need a little time before I'm ready to wrap my head around a few things. I swear to god, Len, and give you my word that I'm not trying to use it as an excuse to back away from you or anything like that. I _know_ I love you in my heart. I just need some time to convince my brain of that. I hope you understand.

I'd write more, but it's been a rough couple of days here. There was an explosion in engineering and I lost eight crew members, and twenty are still in sick bay. The ship is fine; there was no damage, luckily, and we're already patrolling the neutral zone.

I promise -- Just give me a few days and I'll tell you everything.

I love you.

Chris

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

I don't even know where to start. The obvious place would be at the beginning, but I honestly don't even know where that is. So let me answer the comm from a couple weeks ago first that doesn't have anything to do with what we need to discuss.

First of all, god, Len. I'm sorry you lost your mom that way. Explains a lot about how you feel about shuttles. I'm so sorry that you've never really had any grandparents around in your life other than your grandmother Kamilla. I was very lucky. My father's parents, like I said before, died when I was four, but my dad's father's parents both lived until they were almost 105 and 107 respectively, so they were around until I was almost thirty, even though they lived in Australia mostly. I still have my mom's mother, and her father has only been gone about twenty years now. Plus, my mother was the youngest of four. She has a brother and two sisters. You'll meet them and all the rest of my cousins at the anniversary party that Friday we're in Florida. My father was an only child, so there isn't any family on that side except for a couple great-uncles and a lot cousins who live in Australia. I think a few of them are coming for the party. I should warn you, it will be quite a 'society' event, so be prepared for that.

I'm not sure if I've mentioned this before, but my father's family originally came from Australia. South Australia, and to be exact, in Clare outside of Adelaide. Our family has owned and operated a winery there since the late 1800's. Parts of my father's family still run it today. My father was never much into the family business, but my great-grandfather worked and ran it well into his eighties before he turned it over to a nephew. Hence one reason for my love of wine. It's in my blood, so to speak.

Needless to say, Len, my family is very wealthy. My mother's side of the family was very wealthy from old family oil money - they were smart enough to get out and into electric propulsion before the oil market went belly up and they were heavily involved in production of the first hovercar. So when I said I had substantial assets, I meant it. If I hadn't joined Starfleet, I would never have had to work a day in my life, and I'd still have been very comfortable. That never occurred to me though. If there was one thing my parents and grandparents instilled in me, it was the need to work hard with integrity and honor and to share what you have with others. I live by that.

So you might think it's 'charity' for taking care of your -- I mean _our_ \-- house in Georgia, but to me, it's simply giving back to you in a small way for all that you've given me in my life, Len. If you still can't accept it, if you want to pay half, I'm not going to stop you. Keep in mind though, I've had Annie authorize _a lot_ of work -- It might get a bit pricey. I promise though, nothing will be changed, and fuck, Len, that's a huge property. Annie said something like almost 300 hectares? And there are five buildings on the property not including the barns and stables? I have to say I was a little surprised. She hired a property manager while she was there, and they are going to look into hiring crews to get the orchards going again. Again, I hope I haven't overstepped my bounds. But from the holos she sent me, Jesus, Len, it's beautiful. I can see why you loved growing up there so much.

My ranch in Mojave resides on only about thirty hectares, but it's surrounded by a protected desert reserve. There is the main ranch house, a small house that Annie lives in, an indoor pool with a guest house that has a retractable roof, two barns, stables, and a separate garage that has quarters above them where four people could live. My parents had a maid and butler who lived there. Having servants like that, though --that was just never me. The main ranch house has six bedrooms. So yeah, if you decide to have kids, Len, sounds like we'd have plenty of room to raise them at your place or mine. It's pretty incredible to think about, if you ask me.

Yeah, I'm rambling, avoiding the subject that I need to address. I honestly still don't know where to start. And to answer your question, I don't know what happened to that 'sappy old man' in the last six months, or maybe a bit longer than that. Maybe it was the distance, maybe it was stress. I just felt like -- I don't know. Dr. Rossen pointed out some things to me last month, and I talked to Philip about it too, from a medical standpoint. I'm not sure what the crystal has been showing since October when we were last together. For the first month on the Exeter, other than the back spasms and a few headaches, physically, I felt okay. I thought it was just my body adjusting to sitting on the bridge and to the stress of running a ship again. I had just seen you, and we had spent practically all the time we were together having sex --- making love. It was amazing.

I'm just going to come out and say it. I stopped feeling sexual again. I told you at one point I was having trouble getting an erection, but it wasn't just that. When I did, when I forced myself, just to prove that I could, it just -- It just wasn't good, Len. It was like all the times before when I was single and getting off. It meant nothing. It got to the point, when we were fighting, that I wasn't jerking off at all. I'm not sure if you noticed that. I noticed you weren't as much either, which was understandable. But me, I wasn't at all. And I don't know if you just thought that the physical pain I was in was keeping you from seeing it or I don't know what you thought, or if at times you even cared, Len.

As my condition deteriorated, I don't think I have to tell you what happened. You know from my medical records. And those two days before my seizure -- God, those were the scariest days of my life. After the procedure and when I was recovering, I was talking to Dr. Rossen about my sexual issues. I was frustrated that I couldn't get an erection again, even though Philip assured me it would come back, just like everything else, as I recovered. She pointed out that -- Well, a lot of the emotion I feel, not just with you, but in general, has to do with sex. In some ways I know she's absolutely right. I'm not an emotional guy at all, Len. I'm stoic, blunt, and brash. I always have been, and before I met you, I could count the number of times in my life I had cried on one hand. Since meeting you, and during my decline, that number has more than tripled. Dealing with these emotions at times has been scary as hell. Dr. Rossen told me that I expressed my 'emotion' before by fucking, and I'll be honest, that really never crossed my mind before.

Sex for me, in most ways, was just a release. It was just a fuck, to put it crudely. Yeah, I guess Robin and my ex-wife were a little more than that. Maybe a few others were too, but absolutely nothing compared to what I felt with you. That first time I kissed you, after our first 'date,' I guess. I don't know how to explain it, Len. And then as we kept seeing each other, kissing and then the night on the couch before you left -- God, even though I couldn't get hard then or feel much, it was amazing. I felt things, not just sexual things, that I'd never felt before. It was like an entirely different part of me that I didn't know existed. I dove in. I fell hard for you, Len. I don't think you realize how quickly I fell for you. It scared the hell out of me actually. I'd lie in bed at night trying to convince myself that I wasn't already in love with you, or that it wasn't a good idea in the first place, using every excuse I could come up with. I think I mentioned this before.

The harder I tried to fight it, though -- I just couldn't. So I decided to just surrender and see what happened. And God, Len, every time we were together it just got better and better. It was so perfect. Almost _too_ perfect. Every time I thought the sex couldn't possibly get any better, it did. The more we were with each other, the more time we spent acquainting ourselves with each other, it just -- It was amazing. I think you nailed it when you said that I'm intoxicated when I am inside you. I was. Utterly and completely.

So as I got sicker, not knowing why, and we were apart and things started going downhill in our relationship, I felt -- I just -- I lost my connection with you. Kissing, getting you off, having sex with you was how I connected emotionally. When I was still feeling that, when we were writing each other dirty comms regularly, or having vidcomm sex -- Being apart from you wasn't as bad. But when I stopped feeling sexual or being able to jerk off -- I don't know, Len. I just lost something. I know it probably has a lot to do with the bug and the toxins and now I understand that the extra spinal/cerebral fluid was causing more havoc than the actual bug. But I didn't know that at the time. I thought -- I was convinced -- it was something in the toxins that was making me unable to think or feel, and so of course my mind decided, fuck, if it can do that, what if all this time I wasn't really feeling what I thought I felt about you? The day that thought popped into my head, I was completely devastated, Len. I cannot tell you how utterly awful that was. That was the day I sent my letter of resignation to Richard. Because if somehow that bug had manipulated me in any way -- Not just in my command, but God, if I hurt you -- if it turned out none of what I'd felt was real... I honestly wanted to walk out an airlock. It was that bad. No, it was worse.

After a few days of hell, it finally occurred to me that if I felt _that_ bad, there had to be some truth to how I felt about you. My heart, my heart just ached, Len. I was so confused. I was in so much pain physically. I felt like I was completely losing my mind, which was actually true by that point. The seizure happened and everything else shortly after that.

When I woke up, supposedly free of the bug, my mind was still not quite all there. I couldn't move again. I still had the idea that the bug may have been having some influence over me all this time. Rationally, during lucid times, I could tell myself that the bug made me tell the truth, so how would the damn thing be able to make me fall in love with you? But irrationally, I thought, well, maybe I was feeding off of _your_ love and emotions. I thought your love was influencing my feelings. I'm telling you, Len, I've been torturing myself over this. And yes, reading what you said in your comm helps. It helps a lot. I meant what I said in that comm trying to reassure you. I _know_ that I love you -- in my heart, anyway. My brain, though -- my brain is still trying to process all of this. Add in the fact that sexually, I can finally get an erection again, but I'm still not feeling much. I don't feel like jerking off. I feel hollow. I don't feel at all like that 'sappy old man'. I've been scared as hell, Len. And it's not like I could share any of this with you. I thought for sure I'd send you off the deep end, or I was convinced you'd leave me.

Rationally, I know I just need to see you. I need to be with you. I need to be inside you. I need you inside me. I just need to reconnect with you again, and I know everything will be fine.

Irrationally, I'm scared to death that when I do, I won't feel anything. If that happens -- That will be the end of me.

I do want to say though, that I'm sorry, I'm _so_ sorry if any of this I've written -- God, Len, the last thing I want to do is hurt you or upset you with all of this. I thought I could handle it. I thought if I could just somehow hold it all together until we see each other in June -- Then I'd have my answer and it wouldn't matter anymore.

You figured it out though, and I wasn't going to lie when I answered you.

Well, that's where I'm at right now. I'm sure there is more, but god, right now I feel like I've been through the wringer simply writing all of this. I need to sleep so I can shut my mind off. Because right now, my mind is not a pretty place.

I do love you, Len. I know I do.

Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

God damn it, Chris. I am sorrier than I can say that you're going through all this shit. I'm hurting for you. Not _because_ of you, darlin', but _for_ you. That last sentence of your last comm - I don't know who you're trying harder to convince, yourself or me. Either way, I can hear the self-doubt in every line of that comm. Me and self-doubt, well, we're old friends, but I'm guessing that brash, bold, stoic Christopher Pike has barely even made its acquaintance before. I wish I could take all of this from you, suffer it in your place. I'd do it in a second.

But I can't, so I'll just do what I can to help. Tell me what that is, Chris. What can I do or say that would make this easier for you? Fuck, you've got no idea how badly I want to be with you right now. I'm half-hoping the Enterprise gets damaged somehow or other, so we'd have an excuse to get back to vidcomm range, at the very least.

Did I notice that you weren't feeling sexual, before your seizure? Yeah, but I put it down to either the physical pain or the emotional fallout from our fight. I was barely feeling sexual myself. If I'd known it was more than that... fuck, Chris, of _course_ I cared. I told you I never took off my ring. I'm always watching over you, darlin', always. I'll always care how you are, no matter how angry or upset we might be at each other at any given time.

As for using sex to express emotions... well, I'm sure you know that that isn't healthy if that's the _only_ way you express emotions. And I can see that if you were feeling all kinds of crazy new things with me, that would be scary. God damn, though - you don't know how much it means to me to hear it was like that for you, falling for me. To know that I affect you that deeply - god, Chris, it makes me feel good. I am sorry, though, that it was so hard for you to deal with, so overwhelming.

I don't know if this helps at all, but Chris - my experience of falling in love with you, of how it feels when we're together - it's the same as yours. It's like nothing I've ever known before. It's more intense than anything I've felt before, or even anything I've ever imagined. When I said during that vidcomm that you being inside me was intoxicating, I meant it every bit as much about me as about you. I don't think that falling for you scared me quite the way it did you - as I said before, I've always felt things deeply, and I've never really tried to fight that. I wouldn't have the first clue _how_ to fight it anyway. I just jump into the deep end when it comes to emotions, simple as that. But god, Chris, the way you make me feel, the love I feel for you, it's my reason for being. I mean that.

I feel godawful that you went through that despair alone, thinking you'd been influenced by the slug, thinking your love for me was all a lie, thinking about how that would hurt me. Shit. I don't even know what to say. And I know you've said before that you'd never actually hurt yourself, but baby, please, don't ever... I couldn't live with myself if you hurt yourself on my account. Fuck, if something happened to you, I'd - I don't even want to think about it, honestly.

I guess that's about all I have to say about all that for now, because I don't want to make things worse. And I don't mean to pressure you by saying any of this. I'm not looking for reciprocal declarations, and if you never again feel like that "sappy old man," it's okay, and I'll still love you every bit as much. But please, darlin', if there's anything I can do, tell me how I can help. Anything you need, it's yours, you know that.

Good lord, Chris, I had no idea your family was so wealthy or prominent in wine-making circles. I asked Jim if he knew and he just gave me a look like I was the slowest kid in class. What can I say? I don't read tabloids or follow society gossip. I'm sure that's yet another reason that the press is so interested in you. Well, at least you can have the satisfaction of knowing that I fell for _you_ , and not your family name or money, right? Someday when we do that traveling that you're so fond of, you'll have to take me to Australia, show me the place your family came from.

You've probably already figured out that I'm pretty big on roots. I like to know where I came from. I like to know where the people I care about came from. As for my family, the McCoys can trace their ancestry all the way back to the first European settlers in the new world. In fact, my grandmother, my daddy's mom, was active in the DAR, which is the Daughters of the American Revolution. So I'm directly descended from someone who fought in that war on the side of what was then "The United States of America," hundreds and hundreds of years ago.

As for the family property, my many-times-grandaddy McCoy was a carpetbagger; he moved down from the north after the American civil war, to set down roots on a piece of land he could call his own. And I might be biased, but I think it's the most beautiful place on earth or any other planet. But it's not fancy, and we never had a whole lot of money when I was growing up, so it was always a bit tumble-down. I've gotta admit, it'll be really nice to see it restored to its former glory. I mean, not that it was ever that glorious - it's always just been the farmhouse and a few outbuildings, storage sheds and the like, but still, I never thought I'd get to see it all fixed up. So hell, if you want to throw some of your family money at _our_ house, go right ahead. I won't stop you, and I'm pretty sure that I don't have anywhere near what it would take to actually fix the place up right. Thank you for that, Chris, really. You'll never know what an amazing gift that is.

You know, when I was a kid I used to dream of breeding horses. I think I told you I wanted to be a vet - well, I wanted to be a large animal vet, and I always thought that if I came into a windfall (how, I've got no idea, because nobody in my family was rich), I'd buy some horses and breed the most beautiful, strong, sleek horses that Georgia had ever seen. Now that I've got myself a rich partner, maybe I'll actually look into doing that when we retire. Never in my life thought I'd ever really get to do that. Don't worry, though - I meant what I said about my tastes being simple, and I'm not planning on spending all your family money.

Well, I've got a bit of a headache, so I'm going to end this now and see if I can get some rest before dinner. Guess I'll be eating alone again because Jim's having dinner with the walking computer in his quarters. Lt. Uhura's getting pretty steamed about all the time they're spending together too, and I gotta tell you, if she was my woman I sure wouldn't be neglecting her like Spock has been lately. Not that I have the slightest interest in her, mind you. Maybe I'll buzz her and Christine and see if they want to meet me in the mess - I know they're friends.

I'm thinking about you, Chris. I love you, and I do believe with my heart _and_ my mind that you love me too. Please, please tell me how I can help you, all right?

Yours always,  
Len

p.s. Chris, I'm so sorry about the explosion in engineering and the crewmembers you lost. I know that never gets easier.

  



	19. But Wait a Bit (Part 19 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike. A grievance is aired.

_**Trek Fic: Wait a Bit (Pike/McCoy, NC-17)**_  
 **Title:** But Wait a Bit (Part 19 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** around 5600  
 **Summary:** The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike. A grievance is aired.  
 **A/N:** From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) : THE RETURN OF THE PORN! \o/ (Even better than The Return of the Jedi or The Return of the King, amirite?) Oh, my dearest darling smut, how I have missed you. From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/): .... ...After a long weekend of spring cleaning hell, that's all I've got.

  


To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

I'm think I'm going to step back from _my_ issues for now. I don't want to downplay them; I'm still struggling, in some ways more than before since they are out in the open now. Honestly, I don't think there is anything you can do right now. I am convinced I simply need to see you -- To prove to my mind that every bit of self-doubt is unfounded. So don't think of it as me whitewashing or avoiding. There truly isn't anything you or I can do until June when we're together.

To prove to you that I'm not trying to avoid this or us, I want to say something, and I'm going to admit, I'm still a bit peeved about it. It's a part of your comm from last year when we were fighting. But it's stayed with me, and it's _hurt_ me all this time, so it's something we definitely need to clear the air on. Or at least I do. It also has to do with the fidelity/trust issue. This is what I'm talking about:

_Pretty much from the beginning, I've felt like you thought I was some backwoods hick who insisted on that outdated monogamy business, while you were the sophisticated one who was indulging my whim because clearly I was too ignorant to appreciate the benefits of an open relationship. That comm from you only reinforced that feeling. So tell me what I'm doing wrong here. I've been up-front and honest from the very beginning that I don't want an open relationship. I'm sorry if you think that's stupid._

Now, I'm not sure if you were just lashing out, or trying to hurt me as much as I was unintentionally hurting you. But it's probably what I've had the most problem -- I don't know, forgiving you for from that time. When I wasn't sleeping when we were fighting, I looked through every comm I ever sent you. Replayed every vidcomm with you that I had saved. Thought of any conversation we've had together and I swear Len, I don't get where I _ever_ could have given you the impression that I thought you were just some 'backwoods hick' or that monogamy was outdated. I never made apologies for who I was, Len. I was completely upfront and you admitted you were aware of the rumors from the academy.

Never _once_ did I say I didn't believe in monogamy, or that it was outdated. If you felt that way, it was _your_ self-doubt that caused it. Yes, I know what I just said might be a little harsh, but it's the truth. In fact I told you that I _always_ was faithful when I was in a committed relationship. Granted, I haven't had that many of them, but how many have you had, Len? I would guess we're probably about even there. Yes, I was in open relationships, but those were completely separate. I'm not even sure if they should be called relationships. More like I had a regular fuck buddy and we saw other people. I never lived with any of them, I certainly didn't share anything important in my life with them. In fact other than my _wife_ , my status with Starfleet has never been changed before, not even with Robin. Furthermore, not even my _wife_ was ever put in my will. She and I had a standard pre-nuptial agreement. She got a settlement based on that pre-nup when we divorced. That was it.

Maybe I've gotten off the track a bit here, but Len, this _really_ bothers me. As far as my definition of cheating and duty -- Len, if I was really so anxious to go out and cheat and use 'duty' as an excuse, I think I would have done it more than _once_ during my marriage, especially towards the end when it was clearly over. The time I 'cheated' was unavoidable. You can choose to believe me or not. I really am at a loss to know what to do to prove to you that I don't _ever_ want to cheat on you. The thought of that turns my stomach, Len.

I've always lived my life honorably, Len. _Always_. When I give my word, it's set in stone. I don't break it. I don't try to find a way out of honoring what I've committed to. It's done. That's it. I will _never_ cheat on you, Len. I wouldn't want to. God, why would I want to? Nothing or no one could ever possibly come close to what I have with you. Haven't I spent enough time telling you how wonderful you are? How beautiful you are? Jesus, Len, when you are under me, your back arched, your head thrown back -- You are the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen. I mean that. Don't I make you feel that way, Len? I've been watching our holovids again. I'm trying to -- Well, I'm starting to feel a little more -- I'm jerking off once in awhile. It's better. But Len, watching those vids, even though I have most of the ones where honestly we are just fucking -- They're beautiful. There is just no other word for them. Yes, of course they are _hot_ , but I'm talking about the expressions on your face, and mine, and the obvious love -- God, Len, I want to feel that again without doubting it.

Now, if for some reason I'm blinded by my own certainty, and I'm completely missing anywhere in my comms or our time together that I did somehow make you feel like a 'backwoods hick' then I'm sorry, I'm truly sorry, Len.

I know Dr. Elliott said some stuff that was hard for you hear, well, hard for both of us, in our counseling session on this issue. I don't know if you've thought anymore about what she said or not. I don't want to dwell on it, and I'm trying to be sensitive about it. Considering what's going on with me right now, I know that can't be very reassuring to you, and I'm sorry. That's why I was trying to keep this to myself; to wait until we saw each other. I'm not sure what you want from me right now. Right now, all I can tell you is that I'm trying to be as honest as I possibly can about how I'm feeling and where I am in my still fucked-up mind.

Now, to abruptly switch subjects, thank you for telling me more about your family, Len. Maybe I didn't mention it, though I thought I did, but when I said I had horses on my ranch, well, I breed good old american quarter horses. Nothing fancy, just a good old work horse for people who still ranch. So, honey, if you want to breed horses on your property, whatever kind you want, I'm all for it. You tell me what kind and it's done.

I want to talk more, but I'm wiped as usual. On top of still recovering, can you believe I caught a common cold? Philip can't give me anything because I'm still taking the auto-immune suppressors to make sure your treatment isn't rejected, so I'm pretty miserable. I think the bridge crew was ready to strangle me today if I'd sneezed or blown my nose one more time. I'm okay though, and yes I'm drinking plenty of fluids and resting. Don't worry.

This is where I say that I love you, Len. I just don't know if that means anything to you right now. I hope it does. Because it means something to me.

Yours,  
Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

Good lord, I'm a moron sometimes. I'm sorry, Chris, for what I said - that paragraph you quoted. I read that now and I wince. It wasn't directed at you. I was mad and I was hurting and it's obviously an issue I feel defensive about - I know exclusive monogamy is not very "in" and it's considered bizarre and outdated by a lot of people, some of whom have made pretty snide comments to me over the years. But you've never been one of them, and I'm sorry I said that.

God, Chris, the crap that sometimes comes out of my mouth when I'm pissed off. I'm not proud of it, and yeah, it's something I'm working on with Dr. Pagao. Not making excuses, but it's something I picked up from my daddy, and he picked it up from his. At least it's gotten better through the generations - my daddy wasn't as bad as his, and I'm not as bad as mine. Damn, Chris, you think I've got a temper, you should've heard _him_ on a tear. Anyway, I'm getting off-topic. The point is, I'm sorry, Chris, really sorry I said those things, and I hope you can forgive me.

Yeah, Dr. Elliott had some tough words for me about trusting you. I don't _like_ that woman, Chris. But that's neither here nor there. I do trust you, I swear I do, and I'm going to start showing you that I do. I know that's more in what I _don't_ do than what I do, if that makes sense, so it might take a while for you to notice. But I swear I'm going to do it, and if I start getting scared again, I'm going to re-read your last comm, where you said flat out that you will never cheat on me. And by the way - good god, your description of how I look when I'm under you - fuck, I want to be under you again like that. I want that so badly I can taste it.

I know right now you're in a tough place, not sure that what you feel is real, or not able to make your head and heart agree about whether it's real. I get that. I'm not going to rush you or pressure you. But I'll just say - darlin', as soon as we see each other in June, as soon as we touch each other, I think all of that doubt is going to just melt away. But if not - well, we'll work through that too, all right?

All right, enough heavy stuff for now. Glad you liked the background about my family. You said your father's people come from Australia - what about your mother's? As I said, my daddy's people go back to the time of the American Revolution. My mama's people came over a bit later - mid-twentieth century. They were refugees from World War II. The stories that have been handed down - well, they'd turn your stomach. I'm glad that we humans finally got our act together and stopped killing each other in useless wars. Of course, now we just fight other civilizations that haven't gotten the memo. Anyway, sorry for the digression.

As far as breeding horses - well, it never made it out of the realm of boyhood fantasy, so I don't really know what kind of horses I'd like to breed, or honestly, whether that would even still appeal if it got down to it. But we've got time to figure all that out. I'd love to see the horses on your ranch, maybe do some riding with you. Lord, it's been a long time since I've been riding.

Well, I think that's about all, and I've got to run to meet Lt. Uhura at the gym. She said my self-defense moves were "pathetic" and so apparently I'm her new project. I just hope I survive.

I love you, Chris. You're everything to me.

Yours always,  
Len

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

Warning you in advance, this might be a little short. Still have the cold and am already almost nodding off, but I didn't want another day to pass before I wrote you. Now, before you go getting all worried, Philip is sure it's just a cold and I'm fine. Just taking longer to clear up with my immune system suppressed. Stop worrying.

Thank you for the apology. It helps. I can't promise you that I won't be a little sensitive to that issue in particular for awhile, but I do feel better, simply getting it off my chest and knowing you really don't feel that way. For the record, I don't think you're a moron, so quit calling yourself one. As long as we can talk about these things without pushing each other's buttons, like you said, we love each other enough to get through anything.

I had to laugh when you said you didn't like Dr. Elliott. You aren't supposed to like her, because I didn't either at first. Heck, I probably still don't like her. She's no nonsense, tells it like it is, doesn't mince words. Sound familiar? Dr. Rossen says she's the best one in town though and I trust Dr. Rossen implicitly to know what I need. It's funny, I remember when I had lunch with Jim one day when we were on earth in October. It was the day after our first joint session. I told him I didn't think you liked her much, and when I described her methods, I believe he said something like: _"Hell no, Bones isn't going to like her. The first time she tells him something he doesn't like, you'll hear about it. Believe me. He doesn't like being told he's wrong."_ That might not be exactly what he said, but pretty damn close. I think the idea was, we aren't supposed to like her, but learning to work _with_ her, and trust her, is going to help _us_ at the same time. Or more-so, _me_ , since I'm the one that really sees her.

My mother's side of the family -- Well, that's an interesting story. I think I told you her mother was from what was Newfoundland and Labrador, and is now part of Greenland. My grandfather, well, they were all from Texas and Oklahoma for generations. Like I mentioned, my grandfather's family were all in the oil business originally. So my grandfather had gone up to the city where they had old oilfields from well over a hundred and fifty years ago. They'd never sold the land, and the buildings and wells were still pretty much there too. Long shut down, but there nonetheless. So my grandfather had gone up to oversee demolition of the wells and buildings and make sure the land was stable and environmentally safe to put up for sale. He was there about seven months, and about a month after he arrived, he met my grandmother at church. Her father was the pastor. Needless to say, they fell in love, snuck around, and my grandfather snatched the pastor's daughter. They were married a little over seventy years. Granny was barely eighteen when my grandfather, who was 27, married her and brought her home with him.

So yeah, I come from a long line of family who had very long successful marriages. I honestly don't think there was a divorce in my family for almost a hundred and fifty years, until my father's, and then mine. I think I remember a great-uncle on my father's side getting divorced when I was really young, but I'm not sure. I suppose my father gets a pass, though, since he was married for twenty years the first time, and now to my mom for fifty-five. So I'm the maverick of the family, as my grandmother likes to remind me regularly. I think my parents had given up on me ever settling down or having grandchildren when I married Lisa. I'll admit, that's one reason I married her -- To give my parents grandchildren. Not that I didn't want them too; like I said before, my 'clock' had been ticking for quite awhile. I just wasn't really ready at the time and I knew it, and did it anyway. Wait, that kind of sounds bad, doesn't it? I don't know, Len. I think it was a little family pressure and pressure from myself too. My father would go on and on about an heir. Which I never thought of as a big deal because it's not like he got into the family wine business, and there are plenty of male offspring in Australia to carry that on for several generations.

Well, it's Sunday so I'm going to jerk off thinking about you and take a long nap. I'm working gamma shift for Sato tonight. It's her birthday, so it's the least I can do.

I'll write more tomorrow. I know I have things I haven't talked about yet, I just think they will be better delved into after I've had some sleep.

God, I miss you. I cannot wait to have you in my arms, honey. I love you.

Yours,  
Chris

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

How about that? I'm writing you back the same day. I'm on gamma shift right now, I'm bored, and I've surprisingly finished all my paperwork, so I'm letting an ensign sit in the Captain's chair while I write you in my ready room. Don't tell Starfleet, okay?

Now, where were we? How about horses? That's a neutral subject to talk about while I wrap my mind around what else we need to address. If you aren't sure what you want to breed, may I suggest either Thoroughbreds or Arabians? The former would be good since horse racing is still big in the south. Of course, it's big everywhere, but most of the breeding farms are back your way so it's easy to breed and sell. I've also always loved the look of Arabians. I actually have one at the ranch that I traded two quarter horses for a few years ago. She's prime age now to breed, so if that might sound good to you, I can look into doing that. Annie would _love_ that.

Did you ride a lot as a child? I can ride both Western and English, but I prefer the former. Which do you prefer? I did equestrian for two summers when I was, oh, I think eleven and twelve. After that, I was too interested in my band and then girls to do much more of it.

Speaking of Annie, let me give you a rundown of what's going on at the Georgia house. It's being painted on the outside. Same color as it was. There were a few gutters that needed replacing, two or three sections of siding, a shutter or two. The roof is in surprisingly good condition. The outside cellar door was cracking so I had them replace that. All the outbuildings are being painted too. Some fencing around the stables is being fixed. All the fireplaces and chimneys have been cleaned. Annie has hired someone to give the whole place a good dusting, cleaning, and remove the furniture covers the week before we arrive. Then, on her way to Florida, she will stop and fill it with groceries and necessities so it will ready for our arrival after my parents' anniversary party. You'll meet her at my parents' place. She's heading back home to Mojave after spending a week or so with family in Florida.

Now, a possibly sensitive question for you, and if you don't want to decide now, don't want to do anything, just say so. But she asked what room we want to stay in while we're there. She says she knows which one was obviously the master bedroom, but it didn't look like anyone had lived there for over a decade. She also found what she is assuming was the room that your father lived in. I'm assuming your father didn't want to stay in the master bedroom after your mother died, and moved into one of the other bedrooms? Len, she wants to know which room to make up for us and I honestly didn't know what to tell her. It's your house, but she wanted to buy new bedding, or put one of the many quilts she says are in bags in one of the closets. Let me know what you want her to do. She says of course all the beds are stripped down to their mattresses with covers over them. If you do want to see it as-is first, maybe we could buy new stuff while I'm there, you know, our own bed, our own furniture. I'm not saying this is what we should do; from the holos I've seen, there are some beautiful antiques in those rooms. I want to do whatever is easier for you, all right?

So, let's get back to a difficult issue. I'm not sure I'll get to both, but let's start with Robin. Robin was a lieutenant commander and helmsman on the ship I got my first command on. I was thirty one, thought I owned the universe -- Imagine a slightly older version of Jim Kirk, but worse. And no, I'm not kidding. Robin was beautiful, and exactly my type in every way. She was a force to be reckoned with, afraid of nothing, spoke her mind, was a perfectionist and demanded the same from those around her. A real spitfire, like I said. She had long dark-brown hair, the most beautiful green eyes, and well, her body? It was lush and curvy, and to be crude, she had tits I could fuck. _That_ is how I liked my women, Len. Every woman I've ever been with starting from my first was like that. So when I told you that Commander Sato wasn't my type, I meant it. I like curves, not model-thin sticks. Does that help?

We flirted wildly when we weren't around others for over a year. I honestly never had any intention of it being more than that. At the time, I was seeing someone else. I won't go into it because I don't think it's necessary to delve through all of our past lovers -- Unless you want to, Len. If you want to know, just ask. I have absolutely no problem with that, okay? The relationship I was trying to have fizzled out and about two years into our tour we had shore leave on a tropical planet. I was walking down the beach one night and saw her sitting in the sand and she had on this green dress that showed off her every curve -- Needless to say, we started something that night. It was never really serious or committed until about the last six months of her life. We stopped many times. She was at a starbase for a year and a half once before transferring back to my ship as my first officer. She was even engaged to someone else for awhile. Like I said before, it wasn't really a love story, Len. We fell into what I thought was real love, and I guess it probably was in some ways, but it was based on proximity and familiarity. I was just past forty, she was thirty five. We were compatible. We were a good pair and I think we probably could have made it work. She'd decided she didn't want to be captain of a ship. She felt she could instruct better and with her absolute determination, I know she would have turned out some excellent command-track candidates. So she was going to finish out her tour, we were going to have a baby and get married -- In fact, we were going to start trying for a baby that shore leave when she died. We figured she'd get pregnant, we'd get back to earth and get married. I'd stay until the baby was born and then head back out. Our plan was that she'd be on earth with our kids, and I'd be in space and probably retire to earth when I was fifty or so.

So that's my story with Robin. I was, at the time, pretty devastated. Like I said, I went home to the desert after that. We only had five months left on the tour when it happened, so Starfleet just brought us home early instead of trying to integrate a hundred new crew members. So I took that time as leave, and mourned, and then signed on for another tour. I was pretty damn jaded after that for awhile and I don't think I was ever with the same person for more than a night or a quick and dirty fuck somewhere.

About two years after, I was starting to want something more than that again. My tour on the ship I was on was only for three, so I decided when I was on my last shore leave on earth before it ended, I was going to find someone. Yes, Len, I can see you shaking your head at me, but that's how it went. Like I said, I met Lisa at a bar -- a nice bar though. She was twenty-six, blonde and blue-eyed, soft and curvy just like I like. Normally, I would have taken her to a room and fucked her. But I liked her and thought, okay Chris, let's try this the old-fashioned way. So we talked, and laughed. I kissed her hand goodnight, got her number and we dated actually four times before we slept together. It happened pretty fast and then I had to leave. I went back into space for the last six months of my tour; we kept in touch on vidcomm. I fell in love with the idea of a family and giving my parents grandchildren. I came back, we spent a long weekend in bed. I took a job recruiting for a year so I could see how things progressed with her. It went well. She moved in with me (not at our apartment); I proposed; we got married within a couple of months. We started trying for a baby soon after. Six months later I took off for another five-year tour. I think if she had gotten pregnant right away, we might have been okay. We kept trying the first year, every time I came home or she came to visit me if I was on shore leave somewhere else. I was happy, I guess. She was a wonderful woman, Len. Bottom line, she was young and alone the notion that being married to a Starfleet Captain who'd come home a couple times a year and we'd have a rendezvous one or two other times off planet -- It wasn't as romantic as she thought it would be. Instead, it was lonely -- For both of us, really.

Not even two years into our marriage, we both just kinda -- well, it changed. We both stopped talking about kids. She didn't want to use any medical intervention to have a baby. She said if it was meant to happen, it would. Obviously, it didn't. She asked me if I'd been faithful to her and I told her yes, and I had. I didn't ask her the same question, not really wanting to know the answer. Things got a little better for awhile. My ship was ferrying diplomats for about eight months straight so I was home a lot more, for at least a few days at a time. But then I went out to deep space and was gone for over a year. When I came back things had changed. She was distant, and we tried to reconnect, but it just didn't happen. I asked her what she wanted to do and she said she didn't know anymore. So I went back to deep space, about five months this time. That was the time that I slept with a king on a planet, Len. Their customs and culture required the two rulers to 'bind' so that the races would be forever bound as kin. There was no way out of it that I or my science and communications officers could find. If my marriage had been in a different place -- I'll be honest -- I might have tried harder to find a way out of it. That might not be what you want to hear, but it's the truth, Len. It didn't mean anything. It wasn't that great. That was it. Next time I came home, Lisa confessed she'd been seeing someone for over two years. She was in love, wanted to marry him, and she wanted a divorce. I was indifferent really. I think I mourned more for the loss of 'the life' I wanted, than my marriage. She was pregnant with his baby before our divorce was even final and they got married right after. That was that.

I gave up on that life, pretty much. I was resigned to the fact that I wouldn't have kids unless I adopted them on my own after I retired. I was absolutely _never_ going to get married again; I didn't see the point. I went back to my old ways. I was pretty content and happy, to be honest. I had regular lovers both at home and on my ship. Then the Narada happened and most importantly, you. I wasn't looking for anything, Len. I told you that. This completely took me by surprise, but god, I'm glad it did. I mean it. You changed my life, Leonard McCoy. No matter what happens, know that, and I am forever grateful for the time we've had together. And if I have my way, we'll have at least another fifty years together.

Now, I know we haven't done this for awhile, but there is something I've been thinking about ever since Annie sent me the holos of your -- I mean our -- house. I saw your childhood bedroom, and your bed. And for a week now, all I've been able to think about is those spindles on each side of the solid part of the headboard of your bed. They look strong and sturdy. So let me ask you, Len. Did you ever have anyone in that bed? Did anyone ever kiss you, touch you, or suck you off in it? Did they, Len?

Because I'm telling you, I'm going to do that. I'm going to start out with us fully clothed, and we're going to kiss and make out in that bed. I'm going to rut against you in our clothes until we both come. I'm going to take your shirt off and kiss down your chest, and bite and lick your nipples until you are squirming under me. Then I'm going to stick my hand down your pants, and use your come to get you all slick and hard again. I'll kiss down your stomach, biting at that spot just above your waist near your hip that makes you buck under me. I'll unzip your pants, and lick the come off your beautiful cock and then swallow you down, until you come deep in my throat screaming my name.

Then I'm going to put that headboard to use, Len. I'm going to tie your hands to the spindles using a silk cloth. Once I've done that, I'm going to stand at the end of your bed while I slowly undress, watching you there, all naked and tied up and waiting for me. God, I love your body. I'm going to grab the lube and slowly get you ready for me, one finger at a time. So slow that you'll be begging for my cock, Len. _Begging._ And I'll give it to you, Len. I'll wrap your legs around my back, and I'll slide in so carefully, so slowly, just like it's your first time. And once you adjust to me in you, and relax, I'm going to move my hands to the spindles next to yours, and I'm going to fuck you hard, Len. Fuck you right into the mattress of your childhood bed, never taking my eyes off of yours, seeing you underneath me, watching you take my cock. You are mine, Len. _Mine_. No one will ever have you in that bed, or anywhere else, ever again. I may not be your first, but if I have my way, I will be your _last_.

God, Len. I am so hard, so turned on thinking about doing this to you. I want to fuck you everywhere there, Len. I want you to show me the spot you fucked Jenny the first time, because I'm going to take you under that tree if it's still there. You show me -- Anywhere you were ever with her or anyone else. I want to fuck you all those places. Make them mine, make you know that no one will ever have you anywhere again. Only me.

If I wasn't in my ready room, if I didn't have to go back on the bridge, I'd come right now, and come hard. Thinking of you, your name on my lips, and thinking about that bed. Fuck, I might just do it anyway. Jerk off right here. Right where you fucked me hard over my desk, pounded into me.

Oh, I just came, baby. So hard and all for you.

God, I can't wait. Six weeks. Seven before I'll have you in your childhood bed. Think about that.

I love you. You've changed my life and I'm so grateful for that.

Always,  
Chris

  



	20. Meaning to Say (Part 20 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike. Len delves into the past and Chris waxes poetic.

_**Trek Fic: Meaning to Say (Pike/McCoy, NC-17)**_  
 **Title:** Meaning to Say (Part 20 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** around 6000  
 **Summary:** The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike. Len delves into the past and Chris waxes poetic.  
 **A/N:** From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) : No, there's no Jim in this part, sorry! This is a Pike/McCoy fic, after all. You'll all just have to be patient. :P From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/): Yes, patience, my young Jedis. All will be answered in time.

  


  
To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

Good lord, warn a man before sending a comm that'll give him a heart attack from sheer lust. Damn, Chris. Not that I'm complaining, at all, mind you. I was just about to ask you whether sexual functioning or sexual desire had returned, but I think you've answered that question beyond any doubt.

I'd better answer your first comm, and the other parts of your second comm, though, or I'll be in no shape to think about them, much less write anything coherent.

How's the cold doing? I'm not worrying, but I know it's goddamn unpleasant. If I were there I'd probably be driving you crazy trying to take care of you, bringing you soup and fluffing your pillows and so on. It's just how I am, so you might as well get used to the thought. I like taking care of the people I love.

As to my apology, and my calling myself a moron - Chris, I don't actually think I'm a moron. It's just my way of saying "I screwed up." I'm sure that the proper psychobabble would be "Goodness gracious, I certainly acted injudiciously upon that one occasion" but you're never gonna catch me saying something like that. So don't worry, this isn't an example of low self esteem, just a figure of speech. A _mea culpa_ , all right? I notice you didn't say I'm forgiven, just that the apology helps. Is there something else I can do or say? I don't want this to become a festering issue between us. If it just needs time, though, then I guess that's what it needs.

Speaking of psychobabble. Dr. Elliott. Now, no throwing back in my face my own bedside manner. I swear, Chris, that's not it. Yeah, she's abrasive, but that I can handle. It's something else. I feel like... I don't know, I feel like she's kind of missing the point about some of the issues we raise, like she doesn't really "get it" about some things. Maybe I'm crazy. Anyway, since she's primarily your therapist and not mine, it doesn't really matter what I think.

Your granddaddy snatched the preacher's daughter right out from under him, huh? And a barely-legal preacher's daughter at that! He sounds like a rip. I bet there are a bunch of great stories about him. Do you have any holos, or photographs, from that time?

I do know about the pressure to produce an heir. Before my parents passed, they both made it pretty clear that they wanted grandchildren, both so they could spoil them rotten, and also so there'd be someone to inherit the family land. Looking back, it's probably part of the reason I rushed into marriage with Jocelyn. At the time it just seemed like the perfect romance, but hindsight's always 20/20, right?

Don't worry about me ratting you out to Starfleet about writing to me from your ready room - I've written to you from my office in sickbay more than a few times. Haven't ever actually jerked off in there, though it's been a close thing a couple times. And now I'd better veer away from that topic or I'll never finish responding to your letter.

So, horses. Chris, you make me laugh with your questions. Did I ride English or Western? I'd say: no. I rode bareback mostly, sometimes with a saddle blanket or a pair of stirrups if I was lucky, most often not. The horses we had, I think I mentioned, were ones that my mama picked up during the course of her duties as a vet - ones that were too old, or injured, or swaybacked, or whatever else, for their owners to bother taking proper care of them. She'd swoop them up and take them home and we'd both take care of them and coddle them 'til they probably thought they were in horse heaven. But we didn't have fancy equipment or anything, and I never took lessons. Some of those animals - not just the horses, but lots of the animals she brought home - started out downright vicious, not trusting people at all. The crap they went through at human hands, I don't blame them. Daddy was always teasing me and mama about our "projects," trying to get those animals to trust us. We very nearly always succeeded, though. I've got a hell of a lot more patience with animals than I do with people.

In some ways, I've got my daddy's way with people, and my mama's way with animals. She used to tell me I had her soft heart and my daddy's prickly exterior, which I guess is a good way of putting it. My daddy was a difficult man. A good man, but difficult. He was the epitome of an old country doctor - he made house calls, went to all the farms and all the tiny tumbledown shacks to treat everyone in his region - he was the assigned Federation doctor for our county, which wasn't a wealthy one. He got a stipend from the federation, of course, but he was supposed to supplement it by charging his patients on a sliding-credit scale. He would growl and grumble and snap at his patients, but he knew they had less than we did so he'd never take a credit from any of them. It's not like he was a pussycat underneath it all - he was rigid, in some ways cold. He just had a strong sense of right and wrong, and taking credits from people who had less than we did didn't fit his notion of justice. We got a lot of things in barter - jam or pickles if someone had been doing preserving, or socks and sweaters if someone else had been knitting. We never wanted for anything, but we never had a lot extra, either. It was a good way to grow up, I think.

Anyway, he's the reason I eventually became a doctor rather than a vet. If I'd followed my heart's true calling, I would've become a vet like my mama. But, Chris - I wanted so badly to please my daddy. In some ways, he'd never really paid much attention to me. His wife and his work were the most important things to him. I was a distant third, a scrawny, somewhat disappointing mama's boy. When I was an undergrad, I went pre-med, knowing that it would keep my options open; I could still go to veterinary school if I wanted. But for the first time, Chris, he really paid attention to me. When I'd come home for school breaks, he actually talked to me, asked me questions about what I was learning, shared some of the work he'd been doing. It was heady. I knew my mama would love me no matter what I did, but, well, I felt like in order to keep my daddy's approval, I had to become a doctor like he was.

And then - well, my mama died while I was in med school, my daddy pretty much just faded away after that, and then he became ill and it just seemed like none of it mattered. I'm not sorry that I chose to become a doctor, though. I'm a healer, through and through, whether I'm healing people or animals. And as I've gotten older, and there's been a few people I've loved who have needed my skills - you chief among them, Chris - well, now I bless the day I chose to become an M.D.

Good lord, that was quite a digression. Anyway, it ties in with what I wanted to say next, which is: thank you so much, Chris, for restoring the Georgia house. And for not changing anything, just putting it back how it was. You don't know how much that means to me.

I'm thinking we'll stay in the master bedroom. I know it's a bit odd, since that's where my parents lived at least until my mama died (you're right that my daddy changed bedrooms after she passed), but that house has been in the family for hundreds of years, and the head of the household has always had that room, with their spouse if they had one. I've always figured that one day I'd move into that room with my partner. The bed too. Generations of McCoys have loved and fought and slept and lived in that bed, and I want us to too. As for bedding, Annie can use whatever bedding she can scrounge up for now, and then when we get there, if we want to get new sheets or comforters or whatnot, we can. Most of those quilts were actually made by my Grandma Kamilla. Some of them are heirlooms that have been passed down from earlier, though.

You know, it actually doesn't surprise me at all that you were worse than Jim when you were his age. I would love to see some holos of you at that stage of your career if you've got any. I can just imagine the "I'm going to conquer the world" look in your eye.

Thanks for telling me about Robin, Chris, really. I'm so sorry that you lost her like that. I don't know what else to say, but you know I'm always here to listen if you want to talk about it anymore, all right?

In terms of your physical "type," and Sato not being it - Chris, you're sweet to reassure me, but I'm not worried about Sato. Haven't been for a while. I'm glad she's taken up with your chief engineer and that she's turned out to be a good first officer. Damn, though, the image of you on top of a woman, fucking her tits - shit, that's hot. It really shouldn't be that hot, but it is.

I have to laugh at your description of how you went about finding a wife. It's just so _you_. Just straight to the point, see what needs to be done, do it. No fripperies like waiting for "the right one" or any of that nonsense. I'm sorry it didn't work out for you, though. Well, that's a lie. I'm not sorry, because otherwise I wouldn't have you. I _am_ sorry for any pain that either of you went through, though.

Oh, you said I could ask anything about your past lovers, and I do have one question - I gather from what you've said that you've been the love 'em and leave 'em type quite a lot. Have the tables ever been turned? I mean, have you ever had _your_ heart broken? I don't mean the grief when Robin died - that's horrible, don't get me wrong, but it's not what I'm asking. Hopefully you know what I mean.

So, my marriage. So much went wrong I don't quite know where to start. To start with, we were both too young and too immature to be getting married. I met her at Ole Miss, in an art history class that I had to take. It was a general ed requirement for me, but she was an art history major. We were both sophomores. She was so passionate about art, and I was really attracted to that passion, even though I couldn't have cared less about the subject. We got coffee a few times, then went out to dinner a few times. I could just listen to her talk for hours about various things. I don't even remember what-all - how imperialism affected the neo-classical phase in Andorian sculpture, stuff like that. She wasn't beautiful in a conventional sense, but when she got to talking about something she really cared about, her eyes would just light up and you couldn't look away - or at least, I couldn't.

We were nineteen. I'm sure you remember that age - far more hormones than functioning brain cells. Our relationship was built largely on sexual chemistry and on mutual admiration - as I said, I liked her passion, and she liked the idea of me becoming a doctor. But like your wife, she found that the idea of it was more romantic than the reality. We got married when we graduated from college, then I started med school and she started a job at the University of Mississippi museum, as an assistant curator of the southern folk art collection. It was small potatoes, and she wanted something more prestigious, but I was still in school so it wasn't like we could move somewhere with bigger museums.

At first it worked well. She'd pack a picnic, we'd both grab a lunch break and eat together on the quad. But more and more, I was spending time studying. She'd want my attention when I was at home, and I'd tell her I needed to study, and she'd get pissed. Still, we were crazy in love then, and so the fights were bad but the making up was sweet. She was good to me when my mama died. That's one absolutely unqualified good thing I can say about her - she supported me and kept me together during that time. Without her, I would have been a mess - well, even more of a mess. So anyway, we made it through med school and into my residency period.

We moved to Atlanta then, and I did my residency at St. Joseph's. She got a job she loved at the High - the High Museum of Art in Atlanta. She was an assistant curator there, working with the permanent collections. It was exactly what she wanted to do, but of course it paid next to nothing. It was a tough time - I was working crazy shifts, all hours of the day and night, and when I was home I was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to sleep. Jocelyn wanted to do things - go out, spend time with me. I can't fault her for that, but I didn't have the energy for it after working two doubles in a row. She developed a circle of friends that she could do things with since I was never around or up for it. At first I was relieved. I even became good friends with one of them - Clay Treadway. He was a down-to-earth guy; he was actually an ex-boyfriend of Joss's, but I liked him.

Anyway, you already know where this story is going. We were drifting apart, spending less and less time together. My daddy became ill. When it became obvious that the end was near, I took a leave of absence from the hospital and went back home to the family place to be with him. Joss stayed in Atlanta. After he died, things were never the same. I was drinking a lot; she was distant and staying busy with other things. At some point, she took up with Clay. I don't know exactly when it started. She told me about it after it had been going on for a while - threw it in my face, actually, one time when we were fighting. She said I was never around and she deserved someone who would pay a little attention to her. She was right, of course, but she should've told me she wanted out before she looked elsewhere. Anyway, I'm a stubborn bastard, as you know. I told her we were married, and we should try our damndest to make it work. So we tried to pick up the pieces, go back to the way it had been at the beginning. We decided to have a baby. Then the miscarriage, and all the cracks that had already been there just started to widen. Less than a year after the miscarriage, she served me with divorce papers. Up to the day the divorce was finalized, I was still trying to make it work, when it was obvious to everyone else that it never would. I don't let go easily - it's just not who I am, I suppose.

I don't know if this means anything or not, but my mama never liked Joss. She didn't say anything to me, of course - she wouldn't have done that - but I could tell by the way she acted around her. Just a tad cooler than her usual self. My daddy loved her. They got on like a house afire. Maybe that shoulda told me something too.

Anyway, we didn't have that much to start with, and after the divorce there was practically nothing. I think the divorce lawyers ended up with more than either one of us. And since I'm a doctor and she's a museum curator, my salary's higher than hers so I got ordered to pay alimony, even though she moved in with Clay almost right after we split. Luckily, though, she couldn't lay a finger on the family property - that belonged to me only. She had no legal claim on it. Not sure she would've been low enough to try to take it from me even if she did have a claim, but I'm glad I'll never have to find out. She's not evil, Chris. We both did our share of ugly, mean things during both the marriage and the divorce.

Well, that kinda took it out of me, writing all of that. So I think I'll end this letter there, and get to the rest next time. I will respond to the rest, and damn, I'm looking forward to it, but I think I need a break first.

Take care of yourself, darlin', since I'm not there to do it for you.

Love always,  
Len

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Hey darlin',

All right. Now it's morning and I feel like a new man. "A good night's sleep is the best medicine," my daddy used to say, and it's true.

I think that's the first time I've ever written about the whole mess of the marriage and divorce - I've talked about it, with Jim and with Dr. Pagao, but never put it down in black and white. Writing kind of forces you to think about a thing a bit more clearly; puts it in perspective, you know?

Anyway, enough of that topic. Let's get to the good stuff. God damn, Chris, I didn't realize how much I'd missed your dirty comms until I got that one. You've probably seen my crystal going purple and aqua several times since I got it, and every time I've been thinking about what you said in that letter.

To answer your question, no, I've never been with anyone in my childhood bed. Good god, though, I want to do what you described. I want you to make me come in my pants, then suck me off, then tie me to that headboard and fuck me right through the mattress. I've spent more time than I could possibly count jerking off in that bed, imagining various scenarios, but that'll be better than any of them. I've never been with anyone in that house at all, actually - always too much risk of discovery. But I want you to be my first. I want us to put our stamp all over the entire house. I want you to bend me over every damn surface in that house, in every room, and fuck me until I'm screaming your name. Then I want to start over and I'll do the same to you. Does that sound good, darlin'?

There are a couple spots around the property that I've had sex - some with Jenny, some with a couple boyfriends and girlfriends that I brought home during college. And yeah, Chris, I'll show them to you, and you'll fuck me in each one and make them yours. Plus, we'll pick out some new spots and you can claim those spots just for us. Fuck, I love your possessiveness. I don't know why I find it such a turn-on, but I do. So yeah, Chris, claim me. Make me yours, in every possible way. I don't ever want to be with anyone else, darlin', not ever again. I belong to you, Chris, and you belong to me. I'm not letting go of you.

I want to know what it's like to be so goddamn sore from taking your cock that I don't think I can take it one more time, and then have you fuck me again anyway, until the pleasure and pain are so intense I beg for mercy. Then I want you to wait just long enough for us to recover, and do it again. I want to spend hours exploring each other's bodies. I don't want your hands to leave me any more than absolutely necessary, the entire time we're together - in San Francisco and Florida, as well as in Georgia. I want you to touch me when we're out in public, let everyone know that I belong to you. Are you hearing me, hearing how badly I want you, how much I goddamn _need_ you? It's like that song you sang to me last time we were together - you make me shameless. Totally and completely shameless, Chris, just for you. And I know I do the same for you, Chris, and that turns me on so fucking much I can't even tell you.

Speaking of being so fucking turned on, I've got to stop writing now so I can go stroke myself, come all over my hand, with my back arched and my head thrown back, while I'm saying your name, just how you like me. Then, Chris, I'm going to get out a dildo and fuck myself with it, imagining that it's your cock inside of me, until I get hard again. I'm not going to touch my cock, just going to fuck myself, find my prostate and nail it over and over again, and play with my nipples, pinching and twisting them, until I come from that alone, and I'll be dreaming that it's you doing all of those things to me. And after that, I'm going to fall asleep covered with my own come, and I'm going to have really goddamn sweet dreams of you.

I love you, Chris, and I belong to you, always.

Yours,  
Len

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

So you liked that comm, huh? I thought you might, and I have to admit, it felt good to not just send it, but _feel_ like sending it again. It comes and goes, but I want to believe I'm making progress. I've been talking with Dr. Rossen three times a week, trying to get some semblance of my mind back. No, it's probably not _that_ bad, Len. I don't want you to be worrying about my state of mind, I'm just diligently doing what I need to do right now and it really helps to talk it out with someone.

Now, I'm going to start with the stuff at the end of your last comm first, because frankly I'm not feeling much right now, so maybe talking about it will help. I also want to warn you that I highly doubt this trip will be setting any new sexual markers for us, or at least me. This cold that I've had for almost three weeks is just about gone, thank god, but it's really slowed down the physical progress I was making. I've barely been able to exercise, couldn't breathe right to swim and was getting dizzy trying -- I know you'll tell me not to worry about it, and that it's just important that we're together -- I just want to be upfront, Len. Sexually, or physically, I may not be up for much this trip. Not like I hoped for.

However, there are two things I promise you. One, I think the first order of business when we get to the Georgia house -- Well, I want you to take me to the master bedroom. I want you to undress me, lie me in that bed, and fuck me. You have no idea how much I've been thinking about that. You fucking me in the bed that generations of McCoy men have bedded their partners in. God, Len, next month can't come soon enough.

Two, I promise I will take you in your childhood bed, just like I described. As for the rest, if I'm able, I do want to fuck you everywhere you've had sex on the property before, other than that, until I'm physically recovered, my ass is yours. Literally. Not that I'll mind at all, Len, believe me. I love having you in me, watching you, feeling all of you. So I think I might be the one who's too sore to walk this trip. I won't be complaining.

I also have another request. The night before the Exeter leaves, I want you to spend the night on the ship with me. I want you in my bed again before we head out to deep space. I want that memory of us together, and for your smell to linger on the pillow for as long as it can. I haven't even seen you yet, and I'm already -- Well, I'm not looking forward to spending six months in deep space and that says a lot, Len. Deep space, and those missions are -- Well, to me they used to be better than anything. They aren't anymore, because nothing compares to being with you.

Speaking of that mission. Starfleet is going to launch several relay beacons that should allow us to comm. My guess is that it will take ten days to two weeks for us to get them, but that's a hell of a lot better than six months without contact. I'm not going to like it any better than you do, but at least it's something.

Otherwise, it's been fairly quiet here in the neutral zone. There have been a couple Romulan D7 class battle cruisers skirting along the edge of their space and on the other side, a couple Klingon warbirds. We've been keeping an eye on their movements. Right now I think they are simply antagonizing each other, but it's hard to tell. The Romulans have been posturing ever since the Narada incident -- The Klingons are still looking for revenge for the forty seven ships they lost. Never a dull moment out here.

Now, back to the rest of your comms. I'm not sure how to say this to you without coming across as -- hell, I don't know -- I _want_ to forgive you for what you said, Len. This isn't something I'm proud of, but as I've told you before, I'm a man who can hold a grudge. It takes me awhile to let go of things that really get under my skin, which that did. Jim was right in what he said, about how integrity and honor are important to me. If I was talking tactics, I would tell you that what you said hit right smack in my warp core and did a lot of damage. I'm not sure how to say it outside of that. And I don't want you to think that your apology doesn't mean anything; it does. It means a lot. I just need time, and I suppose proof, or what you would call reassurance, that it's not something that is going to happen again next time you're mad at me. Fair enough?

Yes, my grandfather snatched the preacher's daughter. She wasn't yet eighteen when they met, it was quite the scandal up there, even in those times, when her father found out. Took him awhile to forgive them both, but considering they were married so long, and they'd reached their fiftieth anniversary before her father passed, he really couldn't say much. I'm sure when we are in Florida, my parents will pull the holo-albums out so they can embarrass me with old pictures. I'm sure you'll enjoy that.

Well, I'm hoping we will both get a good chunk of shore leave after we come back from deep space in January. Hopefully some of it will overlap with the Enterprise's leave. I'd love to take you to Mojave then if it ends up being on earth. We certainly won't have to worry about heat then. I have a feeling though, it's going to be out in space somewhere. Either way, we'll make it work somehow.

Your reasons for going into medicine are perfectly understandable, and all I can say is thank God, because I doubt I'd be alive, and Jim probably wouldn't be either if not for you. I for one always believe if you follow what you're best at, you're right where you are supposed to be. Not that you wouldn't have made a good vet, Len, but you're one hell of a doctor and researcher, and the medical field is better because of that.

I'm glad that Commander Sato doesn't bother you anymore, Len. I'm relieved in fact. I'm always hesitant to say anything about her, not wanting to upset you. We've gotten pretty close on a professional level, Len. It might be a little personal too -- I've been mentoring her a bit, helping her fix her rough edges. She's been absolutely steadfast through all my problems, so I feel like I owe her. She also makes one hell of a bowl of chicken soup, from scratch, that her mother taught her to make from a passed down family recipe that goes back hundreds of years in Japan. I'm telling you these things, Len, because I don't want you to think I'm hiding anything from you. She does spend a fair amount of time in my quarters, as you would expect. I just don't want you to be surprised on earth, if we run into her. I know she's been invited to Matthew's wedding, so I just want you to be aware. She's still seeing my chief engineer, but I'm also pretty sure she and my helmsman have something going on now too. That I'm not thrilled about, because he's married. But it's not my place to get into the personal lives of my crew unless it interferes with their jobs.

I did chuckle at your reaction to how I found Lisa. It wasn't as cut and dry as that. It wasn't like she was the _only_ person I went out with at the time. There were others. Something just clicked with us, and it was easy. Too easy, looking back now, but like you said, hindsight is 20/20.

Thank you for telling me about Jocelyn, Len. I know it's not easy to go down those roads. I'm sorry for the pain that it caused you, but I can't really say -- Well, if it hadn't happened the way it did, you wouldn't have been driven to Starfleet and I wouldn't have met you. So I like to think that brings us back to what my grandmother likes to say, or, to put my take on it, it was 'written in the stars.' Whatever the reason, I'm just glad the paths we've gone down have brought us to each other, and I mean that.

There might be something in your mother not liking Jocelyn. My mother never liked Lisa either. In fact, she was the one that insisted on the airtight pre-nuptial agreement, for which I'm grateful. For what it's worth, she did like Robin, and couple other people I dated over the years, so it's not like she didn't think anyone was good enough for her only child. She already _loves_ you and she hasn't even met you, so please, don't be worried.

I suppose it will tie into the question you asked about me ever having my heart broken. Well, if you count the teenage angst, I was pretty upset when my first love left. Granted, since I threw myself into Marcella's arms a week later, I really don't think that counts. But I did do the whole moping, 'my life is over, I'll never love again' thing for that week.

Seriously though, I did truly have my heart broken once or twice. I'm not sure -- Well, I know I said I didn't mind talking about my past, but I think I'd rather not go into detail, if you don't mind. The simple answer, though, is yes, my heart has been broken once for sure, probably twice if I want to admit it. I swear it's nothing insidious, Len. Just silly dalliances in my younger years that obviously meant a lot more to me than to my partners at the time, and yeah, it hurt when they left me. Yes, they both broke it off with me. So I've been left before, Len. It's not fun. So yes, I get what Jocelyn did to you. I guess it doesn't bother me much now because both times happened so long ago. So I hope that's enough of an answer for you. If it's okay, I'd really rather not dredge up things from twenty years ago. But like I said before, if you really want to know, just ask. There are some things I just think are better left alone.

God, I don't want to end this comm on a deleterious note. So I'll simply say I love you, Len. The more time that passes, the more I talk to you and to Dr. Rossen, the more my brain is catching up with my heart. So let me leave you with one of my absolute favorite poems. The first time I read it, god, back in secondary school, it just stuck with me. And I remember thinking, and hoping, that -- Someday I would find someone to love like that. I have, Len. I finally have.

 _I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz_  
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:  
I love you as certain dark things are loved,  
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.  
I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries  
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,  
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body  
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.  
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,  
I love you simply, without problems or pride:  
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving  
but this, in which there is no I or you,  
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,  
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close. 

I do love you without knowing how, when, or where, and sometimes that scares me, but like you told me once, I don't have a cowardly bone in my body. I'm learning to surrender to that love, Len. I promise. I'm learning as fast as I can.

Forever yours,  
Chris

  



	21. To Come and Spoil the Fun (Part 21 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike. Klingons and Romulans and Charlie X, oh my.

_**Trek Fic: To Come and Spoil the Fun (Pike/McCoy, NC-17)**_  
 **Title:** To Come and Spoil the Fun (Part 21 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** around 5500  
 **Summary:** The further correspondence of Leonard McCoy and Christopher Pike. Klingons and Romulans and Charlie X, oh my.  
 **A/N:** From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) : I'll be out of town for the next few days so might be slow answering comments - apologies in advance! From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/): Next section: SHORE LEAVE. But not like you'd expect.

  


To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

God, darlin', that poem is beautiful. I've never been big on poetry - always thought it was kind of, I don't know, high-flown, or difficult for regular people to understand. But that one, well, I read it and I know exactly what the poet's talking about. I can't even tell you how honored I am that you feel that way about me. I hope you know that I feel the exact same way about you too, Chris. I've always wanted that kind of love - a oneness, almost. After the divorce and all, well, I'd begun to think it didn't exist. Now that we've found each other, I know better.

A month left until I can see you, hold you, hear your voice and smell your incredible scent again. I know the month will go fast, but right at this moment, it seems endless. You're right, you know, when you said that I'd say that it doesn't matter if we don't have marathon sex, that it just matters that we're together. All I really want is to touch you. I wasn't kidding in my last comm when I said that I don't want your hands to leave me. I don't mean sexually. I just mean - well, if we're out, I want you to keep your hand on the small of my back, like you do sometimes, or touch my hand or my shoulder. I like it when we're sitting or laying together in bed and you run your fingers through my hair. I'm a tactile person, Chris. I'm gonna need to touch you and be touched by you to convince myself that we're really together, that it's not just another one of my daydreams.

As for the sex - as much or as little as we have, whether we've got enough energy to draw it out for hours or not - I don't care. I just want you inside me, and I want to be inside of you. I want to make love to you in the antique bed in the master bedroom at the place in Georgia, just like you said. I want to use my hands and my mouth and my cock to take you apart, slow and sweet, until you give me everything you are, and then that old house will know in its bones that you've been claimed by a McCoy, and that you belong there every bit as much as I do.

Eventually, darlin', I want to re-christen every room - hell, every square inch - of that house, make it ours, replace old painful memories with new ones of you and me, laughing and gasping and crying out each other's names. But it doesn't have to be this trip. We've got time, Chris. We've got all the time in the world.

Of course I'll spend the night on the Exeter with you. I love knowing that I've left my scent on your bed, and all over the Captain's quarters on your ship. I'd really like to do the same with my quarters on the Enterprise, if there's time. If not, then some other shore leave. And for you to say that being out in deep space doesn't hold the appeal of being with me - good lord, Chris. That's an amazing compliment. Thank you for saying that, darlin'. I might not be much of one for space exploration, but I know you love it - no, you _need_ it, the way I need to be a healer. I'm just sorry that circumstances have forced us to choose between our callings and each other, at least for now.

Speaking of your calling, I had to chuckle - just a little, I promise - when you made the analogy to what I said being like me hitting your warp core. Chris, you are a starship captain, through and through. That's not a complaint, you understand. I love the way you are. It just boggles my mind how different we are sometimes. But I do get what you're saying, and I'm sorry that I hit such a vulnerable spot. I understand that you need time to know that it won't happen again. I'll try my best to be patient.

I think of all the things about meeting your family, the one I'm most looking forward to is getting to see holos of you as a child and hear about your younger years. I hope your parents like telling stories because I'm never going to get tired of hearing about the adventures of little Christopher. By the way - good lord, it's been a long time since I've done the whole "meeting the parents" business - is there anything I need to know in advance? Political topics that I shouldn't bring up? Issues to avoid mentioning at all costs so I don't start a family war? I know for my family, when we'd go visit distant cousins and so forth, it was always a minefield of things you couldn't talk about, and they were always the most innocuous subjects. So make sure you clue me in ahead of time so I don't put my foot in my mouth too badly, all right?

I'm glad your cold's almost gone, and that someone's making you chicken soup, even if it can't be me. I'm not going to lie and say that I'm thrilled that you and Sato are getting so close, but I do understand it. It's not that I don't trust you or that I think anything is going to happen between you two. I just wish it could be me there spending time with you instead, but I know it can't. It's like Jim and that hobgoblin. There's a bond between a starship captain and a first officer. You two have to rely on each other in tight spots, know that you've got each other's backs, and a split second's hesitation can mean the difference between life and death. Your mentoring her will make her a better first officer, and someday that might save your life; how could I ever complain about that?

Does sound like she's leading your chief engineer and your helmsman a merry chase, and I hope that the fallout doesn't end up affecting your crew's morale. But, of course, you're fully capable of handling whatever happens. I think you're the most relentlessly competent person I've never known. Disaster would hardly dare to strike around you because it knows it'd get its ass thoroughly kicked.

Speaking of captains, first officers, and crew morale, Jim and I are hardly talking these days outside of our professional capacities. I don't know what crawled up his ass and died and honestly right now I can't bring myself to care. I've tried everything, and I mean _everything_ , short of torture and truth serum, to get him to talk to me, and he won't. So he can just spend all his time with his new best Vulcan buddy for all I care.

As I mentioned before, Lt. Uhura's not too pleased about it either. She's been taking out her aggressions on me by wiping the floor with me on a regular basis in practice sparring matches. She is a fierce fighter, Chris. She's also a fantastic teacher, and I'm getting much better at self-defense. I'll never really enjoy fighting or causing physical damage, but she's focusing on teaching me defensive moves, so it's not too bad.

I eat most of my meals with Christine and Nyota these days. I think we're actually getting to be friends. Nyota asked me how I could stand to be around Jim voluntarily. I asked her how she could stand to be around Spock voluntarily, and she laughed. I think we understand each other. I'm sure you'll be relieved to hear, by the way, that she fully approves of you and of our relationship. She said that when she was a cadet, she'd done extensive research on the postings that were going to be coming available when she graduated, and that serving under you was hands down her number one choice.

Of course it's all right not to dredge up the details about past relationships. I didn't mean to ask for names and dates, just wanted to know if heartbreaker and perennial eligible bachelor Chris Pike had ever had his heart broken. Not that I'm glad that you have, but - I don't know, I guess it's a pretty universal human experience. I think it's probably a good one to have, in the grand scheme of things. Sometimes a little suffering's good for the soul.

Can I just say, darlin', how good it is to hear you sounding like yourself again? With this last comm - I don't know how to describe it, but it's like the old Christopher Pike is back. You sound sure of yourself, you sound like you know what you want and exactly how you're going to get it. I'm explaining badly, but god damn, it's a relief to hear you sounding so good, not tentative like you had been. I'm guessing it feels pretty damn good too. Your crystal's been getting back to its usual green with yellow swirls, meaning you're busy and content. I like to see that.

Well, I think that's about it for now. I'm going to go to bed, and when I wake up it'll be a day closer to when I get to see you. I don't have a poem for you, but just know that you're in my heart and you always will be.

Yours forever,  
Len

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

I'm glad you liked the poem. I think at some point I'll have it printed and framed with a picture of us at the top. Maybe one for each of us to put in our quarters. God, I had to stop a minute after I typed that because all of a sudden I felt like that 'sappy old man' again and it was -- Well, it felt damn good. Now, I don't want you to think I'm still not struggling, because I am. More than I want to say. But I think just admitting what was going on, and getting it out not just to you, but to Dr. Rossen too -- Well, it's helped some.

There are still mornings I wake up with my heart pounding, feeling absolute panic, and some nights where I can't sleep, or have nightmares. I'm sure a lot of it is still PTSD-related, so I'm trying to just -- Well, I've been trying some meditation techniques that Dr. Rossen suggested I try whenever I'm feeling particularly panicked. Not sure if they are helping, but I will say that my heart rate slows a lot faster when I do, so that has to count for something.

Physically, I'm still struggling some. The cold at least is gone, but the damn fatigue -- It just lingers. Philip keeps telling me it's normal, and I'm trying -- well, that's a lie. I'm impatient and if you've looked at the crystal lately, I'm sure it shows I'm quite irritated. Of course, the Romulans and Klingons are playing games with each other out here, so that's not helping. They have a tendancy to provoke each other while I'm napping or sleeping. It doesn't matter what shift I'm on as I've been switching around the last week now. Daytime, nighttime, they don't seem to care. I swear to God, Len there are times where I want to -- Well, let me just say it would put a quick end to my Starfleet career if I do what I've been thinking half the time lately.

I don't think I've ever needed shore leave more than I do right now. Of course, mostly because I want to see you, but truthfully, I'm not handling the stress well right now, which -- Well, that's not a good thing. Usually I'm at my best in stressful situations, I thrive under it. Physically though, it's wearing on me. My blood pressure is up, and coupled with everything else... Let's just say I'm _really_ looking forward to a nice lazy week in Georgia. I almost wish we didn't have any other commitments so we could just go there as soon as we're both done with our briefings and meetings.

Now, as for Jim -- Well, I have half a notion to comm him and give him a piece of my mind. Don't even try to pretend like you don't care; I know it's bothering you more than you even want to admit to yourself. I'm sorry, Len. Maybe we should both corner him at home before he takes off. Between the two of us, maybe he'll tell us what the hell is going on. I have a feeling it won't work though. If he's not talking to you, he's certainly not going to -- Well, let's just say that I don't see him confiding in me over you. He would never do that. Which is why I honestly don't understand what's going on with him. I'm really starting to worry, Len. So much that I have thought, if you want me to try it -- I know Spock quite well, and since he's spending so much time with Jim, if you'd like, I could ask him if he has any idea what's going on. Or if he's concerned. Spock might be many things, but he's very astute at picking things like that up. I'll be glad to ask. We comm each other once in awhile, but as you can guess, his comms rarely fall into personal things with the exception of a mention here and there of Nyota. Let me know what you think.

I'm glad you are socializing with Christine and Nyota. I'm also glad you're sparring with Nyota. I know you're a healer and you don't like fighting, but I feel better knowing that you'll be able to better defend yourself if you have to. I honestly don't know Nyota at all, but she must be something to have gotten through to Spock. I've been told she's pretty feisty. I'm surprised since Jim is monopolizing so much of her boyfriend's time, that she hasn't -- Well, I would think she'd have told Jim off by now. I'm assuming her profesionalism is the only thing that's kept Jim from -- Well, let's just say there was someone at the academy that walked crooked for a few days after she kicked him in the balls for something she didn't like.

I have to say, I wasn't sure how you'd take what I said about Commander Sato. I'm relieved, in fact, but you're right. We're a better team now for spending time together and me mentoring her. As far as the merry chase, well, I think what happened is my Chief Engineer wanted to get more serious than she was ready for. I think 'spooked' is the right word, so she's broadening her horizons, so to speak. She's young; she's a lot like me at that age, and completely commitment-phobic.

As far as anything you should stay away from with my parents -- Well, Terra Prime would be one of them with my father. Some of his colleagues were killed in one of their bombings, so that's always a touchy subject with him. It certainly wouldn't help for him to know that some of your family were members. However, he is a very fair man, and wouldn't hold things your family did against you. It's just best not to introduce the topic. Otherwise, I think you two will have a lot in common. Like you, he feels Starfleet should spend more time helping planets that may not be of benefit to the Federation, rather than kissing the asses of ones that can. He and I have reached somewhat middle ground on that issue, although I promise you, he _will_ bring up my loyalty to the Federation and what a good ass-kisser I am. Just watch.

My mother, God bless her, she's just a gem. I honestly can't think of anything you need to be careful of with her. Now, my grandmother, well, if you think _we_ speak our mind, Len, she takes it to another level. So be careful, she's a wily one, her mind is still sharp as a pin, and I swear she can get anything out of anyone. Most of the time without them even realizing what they've said. In fact, it's too bad that Jim declined my invitation, because I bet if we put him in a room alone with her, in two minutes we'd know what the hell is going on.

We will definitely try to make it up to the Enterprise for a night. I'm sorry that I didn't even think about that before. Of course you want me in your bed. Just like I want you in mine. I _really_ need to learn to be more mindful about things like that. I'm just so -- Well, I think you probably know I can be pretty selfish in some ways. I think about myself first, sometimes to a fault. That's one of the things I'm working hard on with Dr. Elliot. Recognizing that my actions aren't entirely my own anymore. I have to take yours into consideration, and I'm telling you, Len, that's not easy for me. That falls right in with my possessiveness. The need to be in complete control. Of course, we both know that's an illusion, but I'm used to just looking out for myself and not considering how that will affect my partner -- You.

Damn, it's 0200 and I have alpha shift in the morning. I should try to get some sleep. I slept almost fourteen hours yesterday, but I guess I needed it. Trouble is, then I don't sleep well, if at all, for a day or two, and then I crash the third or fourth night. Philip wants me to take a sleeping remedy -- Well, you know how I feel about those, so I've declined. I promise if it doesn't get any better in the next week or so, I will. If only so I can be as rested as possible when I see you.

I'm sorry I'm not -- Well, I'm just not feeling much right now if that makes sense. I'm feeling numb. Don't feel like jerking off, don't feel -- Well, I'm just kind of not feeling much of anything at the moment. I think I'm just worn out, Len. As happy as I am to be on the road to recovery, there is part of me that wonders -- God, I almost wish I'd resigned, Len. Right now I just don't feel up to anything. Don't worry, I'm sure tomorrow I'll feel differently. That's the way I've been lately, back and forth. I'm just sorry you're caught in it.

I love you, Len. Three weeks and I'll be in your arms. God, that sounds incredible. Hopefully that will put a rest to the little voice in my brain and the self-doubt I'm still having.

Love always,  
Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

Sorry it's been so long since I've written. Never a dull moment around here, that's for sure. We all had a pretty narrow escape just the other day.

We were doing our normal explore-and-map stuff about a week ago, when we read a humanoid life sign on the surface of a planet. Just the one. Turned out to be a 17-year-old human male, Charles Evans, who'd been marooned there since he was a toddler, no contact with any other humanoids whatsoever. He was raised by the other inhabitants of that planet, which were some kind of incorporeal beings with tremendous psychic powers. Which they gave to Charlie. Not knowing that, we took him onboard.

Jim dumped him on me, said I was in the best position to take care of him and "guide" him, whatever that means, until we reached civilization. He was a bright kid, Chris, and eager to please - at least at first. He - oh, hell, Chris - he developed a crush on me. Well, more of a fixation, actually. He'd never been around another human being, and when you take the fact that I was the first person he spent any significant time around, combined with the rush of adolescent hormones and nearly unlimited psychic abilities - well, it was a goddamn disaster, and seriously frightening to boot.

It started small, just little things he'd do to try to get my attention, and getting mad at anyone else who needed any of my time. Then he started getting handsy with me and I told him to knock it off. He grabbed me and tried to kiss me, and I used one of the self-defense moves that I'd been practicing. That's when it started getting scary. He got violent - throwing things around, knocking people out when they tried to stop him. He said that he wanted me, and he wanted me forever. I told him I was already in a relationship with someone who I loved very much, and so I couldn't be with him. Not that I would've been interested anyway, seeing as how he was a psychotic two-year-old in a teenager's body, but that didn't seem like the wisest thing to say.

He asked me who it was, the person I was with. Pretty obvious his intent wasn't to shake their hand and wish them the best. I wouldn't spill. Of course, it was pretty much like telling someone not to think of a pink elephant - naturally your name and face were foremost in my mind once he asked that question, and he got the information right out of my brain. I purely hate psychic powers. Anyway, he projected his voice throughout the ship and said that Christopher Pike had five minutes to get to sickbay or he'd start killing people. Guess he didn't look closely enough into my brain to know that you were on the other side of the galaxy. Only time I've been so goddamn grateful for that fact.

Long story short, Jim somehow managed to get the ship's power system to overload the kid's brain. Completely fried his synapses. We were just debating what to do when his people showed up - the ones who'd raised him. They took him back to their planet, said that they could heal him and that they'd keep a short leash on him. That kid's going to have no kind of life, never interacting with any of his own kind, but the alternative is far worse. He's not fit for humanoid society. The whole thing's damn tragic, if you ask me.

To tell the truth, I'm a bit spooked. I half expect him to show up at any moment, tell me again that we're meant to be together, and drag me off somewhere no one will ever be able to find me. I think Christine and Nyota are tag-teaming me, not leaving me alone for a moment that I'm not in my quarters. It's sweet. Aggravating, but sweet. I can tell Jim feels guilty for having dumped the kid on me in the first place - he's said he's sorry at least half a dozen times. Jim. Who does not apologize, ever. Anyway, we'll see, but maybe things are getting better between us. Who knows. But Chris - please don't talk to Spock or do anything else. If Jim got wind of it - and he would, because somehow he always does - it would only make things worse. I can't believe that I of all people am about to say this, but sometimes trying to fix things only makes the situation go downhill, and you've got to just be patient and wait it out. So I'm asking you to trust me on this one, and just leave it alone for now, all right?

I'm sorry you're feeling numb, and fatigued. I guess that's another one that just needs time - time, and for us to see each other. Less than two weeks now. In fact, you should be arriving back home in only a few days. I'll rest easier when you're back on earth - just knowing that you're safe will be a weight off my mind. Yeah, I know that no one's ever really safe and even on earth, shit happens, but it makes me goddamn nervous with you out there stuck between trigger-happy Klingons and Romulans.

I miss you, Chris. I need to see you and touch you and kiss you. I need to know that you're all right, and more than that, I need to know that _we're_ all right. I love you.

Yours,  
Len

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

God, Len. I'm so sorry you had to go through that. After I got your comm, I pulled up the reports on the Charles Evans incident. Scared me to death. Part of me wants to wring Jim's neck for putting you in danger. What the hell was he thinking? And yeah, I know, I know, in a situation like that, it's regulation to have someone from medical in charge of a minor's care until he can be turned over to authorities, but after he became violent -- You should not have had to deal with any of that, Len. Jim was being a first-rate ass for taking advantage of you like that.

Speaking of Jim, I talked to Richard the other day and he mentioned that Jim sent a comm requesting a private meeting with him once the Enterprise arrives back home. He was curious what it was about, concerned even, and asked me what I knew. As much as I wanted to tell him I was worried about Jim, I didn't. Partially because right now I'm a little pissed at him. I simply told him that I didn't have any idea what it could be about -- Which is the truth. I just thought I'd give you a heads up about it.

I'm not sure what else to say. This is one of those times where I hate that we are so far apart -- Heck, that we are apart period. Remember when I said I'd be okay with us being apart like this? Well, I don't exactly feel like that anymore. In some ways, that makes me feel good about us -- About our relationship, and helps with the self-doubt I'm having. In other ways, I know there isn't an easy answer. I certainly don't want to give up my job, and I know you belong where you are too. God, Len. To think that kid, that psychopath could have easily taken you away from me? I didn't sleep last night thinking about it.

And no, my sleep hasn't gotten any better. I know it's just stress. I'm worried about you and Jim and what's going to happen when I see you. I just cannot shut my mind off at night. And when I do manage to fall asleep, I have nightmares about everything from things that have happened in my past to ridiculous things that make no sense at all. I let Philip give me something to help me sleep the other night, and it made it worse. He wants to try other things, but I told him no. I think my body is just so off-kilter from everything -- I will definitely be seeing my acupuncturist as soon as I get home. I _know_ that will help. I actually might look into bringing someone on board that can do that for me, especially if I'm going to be out in deep space for so long.

Not sure what else to say. I still am feeling numb. My sex drive is non-existent again. I know I can blame that on fatigue. I'm just _really_ looking forward to this shore leave, Len. I've asked Richard to schedule as many of my briefings/meetings as he can for my first two days back. I want it done. Then I want to just relax and do nothing until you arrive. I may go home to Mojave for a couple of days, just -- well, to see if the desert helps.

I've given my command crews a lot of responsibility for getting the Exeter launch-ready again. Of course I will oversee it all, but I think it's a good learning experience for them, and for me, learning to delegate. I'm not saying it's going to be easy. You may have to wrestle a padd or three away from me during shore leave and remind me they can handle it. It's all evenly divided so they will each get ten full days of non-working leave. I'm still feeling a bit guilty about it, though. Honestly, Len, I usually spend most of my shore leaves 'working,' whether I'm home in San Francisco or Mojave. So you might have to be a little patient with me. Just a warning.

In news out here, the Romulan ship fired on one of the Klingon warbirds two days ago. Didn't hit it, luckily. I honestly don't think they were really trying. The Klingons, surprisingly, didn't retaliate -- yet, anyway. Tension is just getting higher and higher, though. I suggested to Richard that they need more than two ships out here if that's going to continue. And yes, I'd say that even if it were another ship than the Enterprise due out here for the next rotation. It does help knowing one of my sister ships is a few minutes away at warp on the other end, but there's too much damn space out here to cover now with tensions so high and so many other ships having to pass through. Something is going to happen soon, and it's not going to be anything good.

Annie told me everything at the Georgia house is almost done. I can't wait until you can see it, Len. She's sent me the before and after pictures, and I was going to send them, but frankly, I want to be there to see the look on your face. I hope you know how truly happy it has made me to be able to do this for you -- for us. It really is a beautiful home, Len. I feel honored that I am somehow now a part of that and that I get to share it with you. Truly.

Well, honey, I'm due on the bridge for Alpha in thirty minutes. No, I haven't slept. So I'm going to grab a shower and drink a few dozen cups of coffee and get to work. I'm working a split shift, so hopefully I can get a couple hours of sleep in between.

I love you. Please, take care of yourself. I wish I was there to hold you right now.

Yours always,  
Chris

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Dear Len,

Well, remember when I said something was going to happen our here soon and it wasn't going to be good? It did, and the Exeter is currently limping to a nearby starbase to eventually get towed home. I just wanted to give you a heads up, because I'm sure Jim will be getting a report of the firefight out here anytime. I just wanted to let you know that I'm okay. The ship isn't, and I lost some crewmembers, but it could have been a heck of a lot worse. I don't have time to go into details now; it just happened a few hours ago, but I knew you'd hear and I wanted this comm to reach you as soon as possible after you did.

Logistically, this is going to completely screw up shore leave. We won't make it back to earth for at least a week. I'm sending Philip ahead as soon as we get to the starbase so he won't miss the wedding, but at this point I'm not even sure I'll be back before you arrive. I'll do my best though, and I'll keep you informed as soon as I know more.

Really, I'm fine. I'll see you soon.

I love you, Len.

Chris

  



	22. All Eager for the Treat (Part 22 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shore leave begins!

_**Trek Fic: All Eager for the Treat (Pike/McCoy, NC-17)**_  
 **Title:** All Eager for the Treat (Part 22 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** around 4900  
 **Summary:** Shore leave begins!  
 **A/N:** From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) : OMG the format, we're mixing it up a bit. I'm frightened, somebody hold me! [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/): OMG I wrote a real-time excerpt for the next chapter. HOLD ME!!!

  


**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike**

_Thursday 2260.165_

Not sure what the hell I'm supposed to be doing with this. Dr. Rossen thinks it might be a good idea for me to start writing a journal every day since I'll be heading out to deep space next month and will be out of contact for the most part. I'll confess, I'm a little apprehensive -- I've come to rely on talking to Dr. Rossen more than I want to admit. I'm not sure how this is going to replace that. But I trust her, so I'm going to give it a shot.

The Exeter arrived at earth's spacedock this morning -- Or I should say it was towed in because of damage that occurred in the neutral zone. Damn Romulans and Klingons decided to attack a freighter from Altus 7 that was on its way to New Vulcan with building supplies. How they found out about it -- Well, obviously there is an intelligence leak that SFI will have to investigate. Luckily, we saved the freighter with its cargo intact although the ship was slightly damaged. The Romulans took out one Klingon ship, we took out the other and heavily damaged three Romulan ships before they retreated. The Exeter, however, took quite a bit of fire, and I lost fourteen crewmembers. I know it could have been much worse, but damn, I never get used to this, especially when so many of them were barely out of the academy.

There will be a brief memorial service after regular Sunday services for everyone lost during the last eight months on the Exeter. Twenty-two in the line of duty and one who died of a heart attack three weeks ago. Twenty-three souls entrusted to my care that I didn't bring home safely. This is the hardest part of my job -- I suppose it would be for anyone. I like to believe that it matters to me more -- Well, more than some commanders I've served under coming up through the ranks. I've always believed that your crew needs to know you're human, and not just -- well, a machine. I'm not sure I've always done a very good job at that. It's never been easy for me to be emotional. I always feel like I have to be the strong one for my crew. Everyone is looking at me for guidance. It's not an easy thing to balance, especially for me.

I got all the letters to next-of-kin written while we were being towed back. That never gets any easier either. One of the kids -- God, one of them was one of the ensigns I had been playing chess with for weeks. He was only twenty-two and simply walking down a corridor in the wrong place at the wrong time. Gone, just like that, into the vacuum of space. I--I think his parents are coming to headquarters next week to claim his personal effects. I asked to be notified if they do. I'd like to meet them, and tell them how much I enjoyed getting to know their son. I figure it's the least that I can do if I'm home when they arrive.

Speaking of home, God, it's nice to be back on earth. Usually I don't feel like that, but everything has been so -- It's just been one thing after the other the last couple of years. Mainly, my injuries, and I feel like I'm _still_ recovering from that. Philip promises that in six months I'll be back to my old self. I hope he's right, because honestly I'm not sure what I'll do if he's not. I feel like I'm not the commander I should be. I feel like I let my crew down the last eight months. I only hope I can change that during the last four years of this tour. If this is indeed my last command, I refuse to accept that it's not going to get better than the last eight months.

I was glad to be able to do a lot of debriefing by vidcomm as we were being towed back. Tomorrow, I'm spending the day interviewing/selecting replacement crew for the Exeter. I'm taking on fifty-four more souls. Some will replace those we lost these last eight months, the rest are just new graduates. All of the ships' manifests have been smaller than usual after losing so many during the Narada battle. We still won't be up to full capacity, but we managed with even less the first eight months.

I really don't know if this is what I'm supposed to be doing. Dr. Rossen just told me to write down what's weighing on my mind. Everything I've typed here is, but of course it's not what's weighing on my mind the most. If I look up at my wall right now, there is a holo of Len and I that Philip took last time we were together. It's one that Jim put up. The Enterprise will be here tomorrow and I am both anxious to see him and scared to death. I feel like tomorrow -- Well, it's judgment day. When I talked to Dr. Rossen this morning, she reiterated that I'm not going to have a magical answer just by seeing him. Part of me knows that, but another part of me -- I feel like I'll just know. I feel better than I have just being home right now -- In our place, even though he's really not spent a lot time here. But I can walk through and see him: Standing at the kitchen counter drinking bourbon while I cooked, lying on the couch with his feet in my lap, stoking the fireplace, all the places we fucked. I see him everywhere and it doesn't seem like he shouldn't be here. I hope that's a good sign. I told Dr. Rossen I wasn't sure I could handle -- I mean, what if I still have doubts? She reminded me that everyone has doubts, but me -- I've always been sure of everything.

I know I love him. I can't imagine my life without him. I just want to know these feelings are real and not part of the nightmare of the last twenty-eight months.

Richard is expecting me so I guess I should get going. It will be a working dinner. I'm still determined to keep to our schedule if at all possible.

I'm really looking forward to getting away from it all.

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike**

_Friday 2260.166_

Well, dinner is ready and the Enterprise arrived later than expected at spacedock, so I figure I'd better write this before Len arrives.

Got a lot done today. Filled nearly every position on the Exeter. Still looking for an acupuncturist, but I'm determined to have one onboard before we leave. May need to take one on as a civilian contractor. I already talked to Richard about that, but I still hope to find someone in Starfleet. Have two candidates to vidcomm with from overseas, and one from Lunar One. Hopefully one of them will be a good fit. Took a break at lunch and went to the jeweler Len had his ring made at. Dropped off my crystal. She promises to have it ready before we leave for Georgia next week. God damn paparazzi were on my tail. Luckily, I slipped into a friend's nearby restaurant and then slipped out the back so they never caught me. I can just imagine what the headlines would have been from that.

Had the standard physical and psychological evaluation at Starfleet Medical today. God, I hate those. As if I haven't been poked and prodded enough the last two years, I got to spend two hours there this afternoon. I might have been a little hostile towards the shrink, but frankly, I didn't like his insinuations about whether I could handle my command responsibilities. Fuck him and the horse he rode in on. I'm pretty sure I told him that in no certain terms. I'm sure I'll hear from the Admiralty about it, but frankly I don't care. God damn pencil-pushers who have never seen a day in the black and have no idea what it's like. I may have had a pretty fucked up eight months, but we met _every_ benchmark and then some and I was _never_ not completely aware of what was going on on my ship, save for the two weeks I was at the starbase for surgery.

On a good note, I got to sign all the commendations for my bridge crew today. They'll get them before we ship out again. Not sure when that will be yet. There is no way they will have the repairs done when we were originally scheduled to embark. Current estimates put the delay about a week, but they just took her to the repair dock today. I've been keeping an eye on her diagnostics and so far they haven't found any damage we didn't already know about. If that stays true, it shouldn't be too bad.

In the meantime, I'm going to enjoy the extra time here on Earth and with Len. He'll end up leaving before me this time, which I'm already dreading. I'm much calmer today. I'm not sure why. I think seeing him on the vidscreen, hearing his voice when they arrived helped. Knowing that in a couple of hours, I'll hopefully have quieted the voices in my head. If not, like Len said before, we'll deal with it. I'm certainly not giving up on this relationship without a fight. We've been through too much, and not only that, whether I doubt my true feelings for him or how they started -- I care about him a lot. I do know that.

I have to believe that subconsciously, I know everything is okay. Just things I've done without a second thought -- Going to the jeweler, officially signing my copy of the wills, trusts, and adding him to my apartment. I didn't even hesitate. Since I am beyond cautious on things like that -- Well, it really helps with the doubts still plaguing me. I was honestly talking to myself earlier -- Telling myself to shut up when I was cooking and the self-doubt was at its worst -- It honestly had me feeling like I was having another panic attack. Luckily, there was still a half bottle of Len's bourbon and after a couple of quick shots, I was fine. Well, not fine, but I managed to finish making dinner, set the table, and now here I am writing in this ridiculous journal.

Mostly, I'm just tired. I'm bone-deep tired. I honestly feel like I could sleep for a week and still need to sleep more. Is this what getting older is like? Or is it just the stress of everything weighing me down? I know physically, I'm still not healthy either, and I'm sure that doesn't help. I wish I had been able to go home to the desert for a few days. Hopefully, Georgia and time there with Len will heal me the same way.

I think I'm gonna rest for awhile. Len said he'd probably be pretty late getting everything wrapped up before he can disembark.

I'm getting nervous again. I think it's time for another drink and a bit of sleep.

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

It's really a little ridiculous, me comming you when I saw you this morning and I'm going to see you again in just a couple hours. But I've gotten used to writing to you about what's going on in my life, and it would feel strange to stop now, when there's so much going on. Dr. Pagao says it's a good way for me to process events, getting them down in writing, and he's probably right. He's after me to start a personal journal, actually, for things that for whatever reason I can't or won't write to you about. I've been resisting the idea, mostly because I think I don't want to admit that anything exists that I can't or won't tell you about. Maybe one of these days I will start a journal, but right now - I don't know, there's some comfort in knowing that you're going to read these words. I think I need that connection right now. Writing to no one would seem pointless, or maybe just lonely.

Lonely's the last thing I'm feeling right now, though. Good god, Chris, I can't tell you how incredible it is to see you again, be with you, hear you and touch you and taste you and smell you. Last night, when I arrived back home, when the shuttle docked in San Francisco, my stomach was completely tied in knots. I was so afraid, Chris - afraid that you'd take one look at me and say it had all been a mistake, just the influence of that damn bug. I knew rationally that that didn't make any sense, but that didn't make any difference to how I felt.

Then I got to our apartment, and opened the door. It smelled like _heaven_ , and I knew you'd been cooking for me. For _us_. I can't explain it, but somehow at that moment I knew it was going to be all right. I came in, dropped my bags, took off my boots, and walked through the apartment. You weren't in the kitchen - you'd put dinner under a stasis field, so I kept going, and somehow I knew I'd find you in the bedroom. Sure enough, there you were, asleep in our bed. I know some people look different when they sleep - Jim, for instance, looks like an absolute angel when he's sleeping, which we both know is a big fat lie - but you, Chris, you look just the same as you do when you're awake. You looked so sad, so careworn, and yet you had that determined set to your mouth that said you'd be damned if you'd go down without a fight. I looked at you sleeping and I fell in love with you all over again.

So I sat down next to you on the bed, as gently as I could, because I didn't want to wake you yet. I couldn't resist touching you, though, so I ran my fingers through your hair. You're getting some silver in your hair, you know. I hope you don't cover it up, because it makes you look so distinguished. I find it incredibly sexy.

Anyway, I don't know how long I sat like that, just stroking your hair and watching you sleep. It felt like a privilege, to be able to be that close to you while you slept so peacefully, all unaware. I know that you generally don't sleep very soundly, especially if there's someone else around, and you're liable to wake up at the first noise or touch. I guess your subconscious recognizes my presence, knows I'm not a threat. I like that, darlin'. I like it a lot.

You woke up gradually, which isn't your normal pattern. That tells me how sleep-deprived you are, and I'm gonna make sure you get plenty of rest this shore leave. But you stirred, and made this little murmuring sound, and then your eyes opened and you focused on me and you said "Len?" in a whisper, as if you couldn't quite believe I was there and I might disappear if you spoke too loud. My eyes were prickling when I said "Yeah, darlin', it's me." God, Chris, the look in your eyes - it was full of wonder, like you were seeing heaven for the first time. I leaned down to kiss you and I swear it's like the whole world was holding its breath. I've never had another kiss like that one, Chris. Nothing could ever compare to it. In some ways it was like a first kiss, only better, because I already know you inside and out, the same way you know me, and I already love you more than I love my own soul.

We were still kissing, and I could taste the bourbon on your breath, the bourbon that I bought last time we were here together in the city. The thought of you, sipping my whiskey and thinking about me, it turned me on so damned much. So I started undressing you, so slowly, worshipping you with kisses as I revealed each bit of skin, and then when you said "I want you inside me," I just said "I know, baby," because truly, Chris, I already did. I knew what you needed, what you were going to say before you even said it. I wanted to go slow, really make it last, make it special for you, but fuck, neither of us had the patience for that. So then I finished undressing us both and prepped you as fast as I could - I just needed to be buried in you right then, and I knew you needed to feel me.

God damn, Chris, the noise you made when I sank into you. Still not sure if it was a gasp or a sob or some combination, but good lord, it went straight through me. Then you wrapped those long legs of yours around my back and pulled me in until there was no space between us. I fucked you with deep, long strokes and we didn't break eye contact once. I don't think we even blinked. Then your eyes started streaming with tears and just for that moment, my heart stopped and I wanted to die. But then - then you were smiling, and it was the purest, sweetest smile I've ever witnessed and I knew that you felt it - that you felt all the love between us and that you knew it was real. I couldn't have waited any longer if I tried, so I just let it happen, my whole body tensing as I came inside of you. I fought like hell not to throw my head back, because I didn't want to look away from your eyes once - I wanted you to see me, to see all the way into me and know how I felt about you, in a deeper way than I could ever manage with words.

Then I kissed and licked away all of your tears as I worked you with my hand, and I murmured in your ear everything that I was thinking and feeling in that moment. I know I said some ridiculous things, Chris, but I'm telling you, I meant every word. I still do, even if I'd blush to say half of that stuff in the light of day. You seemed to like it, anyway, judging by the way you came apart under me, how you spilled into my hand with your mouth open and your eyes closed tight, with a groan that sounded like it was ripped from the deepest part of you.

I don't even know how long we lay there, kissing and touching, barely talking but not needing words, until finally my belly growled and you poked it and laughed at me. I don't think Chateaubriand is meant to be eaten in bed, but somehow we managed, which is a good thing because I don't think I could have stood not touching you for long enough to sit at the table and eat properly. Best meal I've ever eaten, Chris, hands down. Both the food and the company, and how goddamn happy I was to be there with you, you feeding me little bites.

Last night, I think we both got the best night's sleep either of us has had in months. I don't sleep right when you're not next to me. I'm spoiled for you. But good lord, when you are there, wrapped in my arms or with your arms wrapped around me - it's the best feeling in the world. It's idiotic, but it makes me feel safe in a way that I've never really felt before. So thank you for that. Thank you for everything, Chris. I really am the luckiest bastard in the galaxy to have you, and that's the god's honest truth.

Well, you'll be home soon so we can get ready for Matthew's wedding. Only you, Chris, would set up debriefing meetings on a Saturday morning right before your godson's wedding. I know you want to get your Starfleet obligations over with so we can get away, but your single-minded dedication to achieving whatever your goal is both impresses and amuses me. You're one of a kind, darlin'. I'm not sure whether I should send this, or save it and send it to you later, when we're out in the black. You know, there's something appealing about actually getting to be with you when you read one of my comms. I always wonder what your face looks like when you're reading, whether you smile or laugh or get hard, or whether you have on your blank mask that hides what you're feeling. So maybe I'll wait and show this to you when you get home.

I love you, Chris, and god, I know now to my bones that you love me. I hope you know it too.

Yours always,  
Len

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike**

_Saturday 2260.167_

For once I'm staring at this blinking cursor, not because I'm not sure what to write, but because I have so much to write, so many feelings -- I'm overwhelmed. I have an extra hour right now before my next appointment, and since I doubt I will have a chance to write later, with the wedding and what I have planned after -- Well, I guess it's a good thing that Jim cancelled our lunch plans.

I guess I should start at the beginning. I actually fell asleep after my entry last night. Wasn't sure if I would, with my stomach twisted in a giant knot. I was exhausted though. Next thing I know, Len was sitting next to me on the bed, running his hands through my hair. I can't possibly describe that moment. I was convinced I was dreaming. I was groggy. But as soon as his lips touched mine -- I forgot how to breathe. I can't believe I'm typing this, but I swear to god, he breathed life back into me. All the fears of the last few months -- I swear, they just washed away as he kissed me, as he touched me, as he made love to me. I don't think our eyes left each other when he was inside me -- God, I've never felt anything like it. Just an amazing sense of peace.

We didn't talk; we didn't need to. I know Len said something once about me being his soulmate, and until last night, I wasn't sure if I really believed such a thing existed. Last night though, I swear I felt our souls entwining when he was inside me, the way he looked in my eyes, there was a -- hell, I don't know how to say it other than like there was a current between us that got stronger and stronger with every kiss, every breath, every stroke. It had nothing to do with sex either -- Not that it didn't feel amazing -- It was just more than that. A bond. I don't know how to explain it.

I wasn't even aware that I was crying until he started kissing the tears off my face, whispering words in my ears. _I love you, darlin'. I'm yours. Always. You're my baby. I love so much. I love making you come. Making you shatter. Come on, baby, come for me._ When I came, I didn't even recognize the sound that erupted from my throat. I think I literally sobbed as I came down from the euphoria. We just gently kissed and touched -- I'm not sure how long. I couldn't believe he was really there, and for the first time in my life -- I know what love is. I really truly do. It's the best feeling in the world. To love someone so much, that every bit of selfishness I have inside me just disappears, because I know I would do absolutely _anything_ for him. Never in my life have I come close to feeling like that about anyone.

There is no doubt in my mind that he's the one I'm going to spend the rest of my life with. Right now, I wish we could start that life together, but I know it's going to be awhile. And I know it's not going to be easy. It almost seems silly now, all the fear, all the stress, all of the hell I put myself through questioning my thoughts, my feelings for him. I would almost laugh, except it's not funny. I literally almost killed myself over it. Not to mention how all of this had to affect him. All I know, is I'm the luckiest bastard in the universe. I'm not sure what I have done in my life to deserve someone like Leonard McCoy, but I thank God he's in my life. He's made me a better person; he makes me want to BE a better person. I can honestly say right now that I am truly, truly blessed.

Last night was the first night I have slept more than eight hours straight in weeks -- God, in I don't know how long. I may still be sleeping more than usual, but it's been four or five hours at a stretch most of the time lately. Waking up next to him this morning, watching him sleep, running my fingers through his hair like he did mine the night before. It was so hard to get out of bed knowing I had to come in here to work. I knew I had to, though, if I wanted us to be able to get out of here like we planned. So I reluctantly crawled out of bed, making sure I didn't wake him, and got in the shower. I had just finished washing my hair when Len stepped in. He looked tired, but happy, and our lips -- The only word is melded. God, the steaming shower, and his lips on mine, and his hands everywhere on me. I honestly didn't know -- well, if I'd get hard again so soon. I haven't been able to lately, since I am still recovering. But I did and God, I had to be inside him.

It certainly wasn't my best effort. I pushed him up against the wall and hastily used the body oil to prep him, but he didn't complain. The moment I pushed inside though -- God, I thought my legs weren't going to hold me up. I had to rest a moment with my head on his back, but then I slowly started pulling in and out. We didn't rush, we didn't talk. I wrapped my arms around him, and he wrapped the one not against the shower wall across mine. The rest is just a blur of steam, and water, and moans, and when I came -- God -- I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe again. I might have even blacked out. Because the next thing I remember was his strong arms around me, and the water washing down my front as he stood behind me, kissing my neck, and mumbling. _I've got you. Never going to let you fall, baby. I've got you._ And then being wrapped up, first in a towel and then in my robe, and being led to the bed, and a few minutes later a cup of coffee being pushed into my shaking hands. And he was just there next to me, reassuringly, as I came back. I think I scared him, truthfully. I might have even scared myself. I know he lectured me a bit, told me I was going to be taking at easy from now on. As much as I know he's right, and that I need to rest -- I need to -- well I need to fuck him more right now.

I had to convince him I was fine to come in here today, and I am. I talked to Dr. Rossen for a few minutes this morning in between appointments, and she assured me that my body and mind have been literally experiencing emotional shock for so many months, probably these last two years, and now that I'm finally really recovering, and free of the toxins, there are going to be moments that are overwhelming -- I need to expect that. Right now though, I'm so overwhelmed with love -- God, it's simply the best feeling in the world.

I cannot wait to go home to him -- to get dressed and go see my godson get married. He says he gets emotional at weddings -- I think today, I just might trump him on that.

  



	23. Full Leisurely We Glide (Part 22 - A  of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Len arrive at the hotel for the wedding reception.

_**[Fic] - Full Leisurely We Glide - NC-17**_  
 **Title:** Full Leisurely We Glide (Part 22 - A of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Author:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** around 3500  
 **Summary:** Chris and Len arrive at the hotel for the wedding reception.  
 **A/N:** Real time kids! This fits between 22 and 23 which we'll post in a few days. Thanks to [](http://linelenagain.livejournal.com/profile)[**linelenagain**](http://linelenagain.livejournal.com/) & [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) for the beta and moral support. I will now be going to hide in the closet for a week or so. *meep*

  


  
"Admiral Pike!"

"Chris!"

"Doctor McCoy!"

"Admiral, any truth to the rumor you're quitting Starfleet?"

"Where's Jim Kirk?"

"Len!"

The shouts came from behind and the flashes nearly blinded them as they made their way out of the limousine, grateful for the barrier that separated them. Over fifty paparazzi and reporters holding everything from digicams to full size holovid cameras continued yelling and pushing to get the best shot. Chris grabbed Len's hand, squeezing it reassuringly as they ignored the shouts and made their way inside The Fairmont. It was ridiculous. Chris swore under his breath as they finally made it into the hotel, grateful for the privacy and knowing security would keep the paps and reporters from getting inside.

"Goddamn vultures," Len spat, brushing the sleeve of his dark navy suit, like he was ridding himself of them.

"I'm sorry, Len," Chris apologized. "They've been all over me since the Exeter docked." He could still hear them shouting outside as they stood in the lobby waiting for bellhop to follow them in with their bags. "Wait here; I'll check us in." He gave him a quick kiss and watched as Len settled into a high-back chair, pulling his comm out of his pocket. Chris shook his head and walked away, knowing exactly what Len was doing.

Five minutes later Chris returned, and motioned to the bellhop who was waiting with their overnight bags. "Any word?"

"No, still turned off," Len sighed.

"Jim's fine, Len. He obviously didn't want to come. He's been to his debriefings, he's doing what he needs to do to get out of here just like us," Chris reassured, grabbing his elbow and leading him to the old-fashioned elevator banks. "Maybe he was busy and he'll show up for the reception. Jim can never resist a party."

"Maybe." Len shook his head and sighed as they got in the elevator. "Why'd you get us a room?"

"They have the Crown Room booked until 0100 for the reception. I figured we might as well stay here instead of going back when we've had to much to drink and are tired." Chris gave him a look and a sly smile. He certainly had other plans for the room, but wasn't going to mention them with the bellhop in the elevator with them. He took Len's hand again, threading their fingers together, relishing the feeling of the simple act. He saw Len's mouth curl up out of the corner of his eye and God, they couldn't get to their room fast enough. Thank God the hotel didn't have very many floors.

Going to work had been torture knowing Len was at home most of the day. Granted, Len had been doing reports and taking care of the tedious duties required of a Chief Medical Officer. Chris knew he hated that aspect of his job, laughing the first time Len told him, _"I'm a surgeon, not a goddamn paper-pusher."_ He understood, as most of his 'Captain's duties' amounted to similar monotonous tasks.

He had gone all out, and Len's eyes got wide looking at the stunning twentieth century restored room. His eyes narrowed on the king size bed with the padded headboard. Chris shook his head in wonder as he saw a tinge of blush on Len's cheeks before he composed himself and took his bag to the armoire. Chris just smiled as he handed the bellhop a credit chip. It still amazed him that Len was really his, and he found it sexy as hell that he could make the man blush so easily.

He walked up behind Len, who was putting a shirt on a hanger, and wrapped his arms around his waist. "You know, you really don't have to put things away. That's why I told you just to throw a change of clothes and pajamas in a bag. Not that you're going to need the pajamas," he whispered into his ear.

"I would rather not wear a wrinkled shirt out of here tomorrow with all the vultures circling outside," Len protested lightly as Chris bit and sucked on his earlobe. He hung the shirt up, leaning back against Chris. "Shouldn't we be getting upstairs?" Chris's hand slid down to the front of Len's crisply pressed pants.

"We have time for this." He slowly unzipped Len's pants. "I owe you for this morning." He reached inside palming Len's half hard cock. "I left you unsatisfied after I practically passed out. Can't have that."

Len groaned as Chris freed his cock, wrapping his hand around the top and tugging it hard.

"Dammit, Chris!" Len growled, biting his lip. "You don't," he panted, "have," he groaned, "to make up," he gasped, "for this morning." He groaned as Chris palmed him roughly, sliding up and down.

"Okay," Chris said, cupping his balls. "Maybe I'm just being selfish then. Maybe I just want to taste you." Chris moved his hand up and flicked the button open, and pulled down Len's boxer briefs. "God, I've missed the taste of your cock, Len. Can I?" He breathed heavily next to Len's ear. "Can I suck your cock?"

"G-God, Chris," Len sputtered, reaching out to grab the side of the armoire. "Y-Yes."

He spun Len around, nearly knocking him over. He slammed the armoire door shut and pushed Len back against it. He dropped to his knees and immediately took Len's cock into his mouth. He wasted no time, taking him deep, licking and sucking and then swallowing him down, while cupping his balls with one hand.

Chris looked up as Len groaned and grunted above him. His head was turned sideways against the door, his eyes shut, biting his lip between gasps as Chris sucked and swallowed, sending bolts of pleasure through his lover. God, he'd missed seeing him like this, missed tasting him. Missed everything about him.

It never took long for Chris to make Len come; he knew _exactly_ what he was doing, and what Len liked. A minute later, Len groaned and sputtered gibberish and came down his throat. Chris smiled around his cock as he swallowed and then licked him clean. He pulled up Len's boxer briefs, a smug grin on his face. He zipped Len back up, and stood as he buttoned his pants.

"God, I missed that," he hummed, standing up and pulling a still panting Len into a deep kiss. He stepped back as Len shakily pushed away from the armoire, re-tucking his shirt into his pants. Chris ran a hand through Len's mussed-up hair, relishing the feel of it in his fingers as they looked at each other. Chris still couldn't believe they were together again. It had been too long, and made worse by everything that had happened since they were last with each other.

"What about you?" Len asked, kissing him again, drawing him closer.

"I'm fine for now," Chris assured him. "I'm saving my strength for tonight." He smiled arrogantly. "I have plans for that bed."

"Oh yeah? Care to share?" Len raised his eyebrow.

Chris leaned forward, his arms pressed against the armoire on either side of Len. He said in a low voice, breath hot on Len's cheek, "I was thinking about how comfortable that padded headboard would be to lie back against while you ride me." He pulled back and looked him directly in the eye, an air of confidence surrounding him.

"Damn, Chris. How am I supposed to sit in the reception for hours thinking about that?" Len said, clearly flustered.

"You asked," he grinned slyly, running his hands up and down Len's arms. "It could be worse. I could have fucked you and made you wear a butt plug all night." He kissed him firmly on the lips and then walked away, smiling as Len stood there with his mouth open. He disappeared into the bathroom, humming to himself.

###

Just after midnight, Chris and Len walked back into the room. Their ties were already off, the first couple of buttons on their shirts undone. Len walked into the bathroom as Chris continued into the living area, hanging his suit jacket up in the armoire, and pulling the tie out of the pocket, draping it over. They hadn't had _too_ much to drink, but neither of them were feeling any pain right now either. He slipped off his shoes.

"I have to be back at Starfleet by 1030 so I can change into uniform before services. I left one in my office. The room is booked for another night, so you don't have to hurry home when you get up," he explained as Len walked out of the bathroom. He walked over to the window and opened it slightly to let the cool June air inside.

"I was planning on going with you," Len said, as he hung up his suit jacket.

"Are you sure?" Chris asked as he turned around, a bit surprised. "You don't have to, Len. I know church isn't your thing."

"No, but _you_ are, and I want to be there to support you." He walked over to Chris and put his arms around him. "I had a wonderful time tonight, darlin'."

"Good," Chris smiled, wrapping his arms around Len's waist loosely. "It was perfect. Their wedding, having you there. Everything today." He nestled his face in Len's neck, breathing him in.

"You're tired, Chris. We should get to bed," Len said softly, kissing the side of his head. "It's okay if we just go to sleep."

"No, I just need some air, and a few minutes," he sighed. There had not been much time to simply breathe each other in like this since Len arrived last night. "I'm sorry Jim didn't show."

"It's okay," Len said, pulling back and giving Chris a firm kiss. "I honestly didn't expect him to."

"Oh, so you were expecting someone else to walk in the door you were watching all night?" he asked, his mouth turning up slightly.

"That obvious, huh?" Len sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, just a little."

Len breathed out heavily. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I know you're worried about him," he said, running his hands up and down Len's arms.

"I-I don't know how to explain what I feel right now, Chris," Len said, taking a few steps and slumping into a high-back chair.

"You don't have to explain anything to me, Len," Chris reassured him, sitting down on the end of the bed. "He's your best friend. He's being an ass. You're hurting. You're worried about him. That about sums it up, doesn't it?"

"Mostly," he shrugged.

"I have a thought, but you might not like it," Chris said, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees.

"I don't like a lot of things, doesn't mean I don't need to hear it," he pointed out. "Go on." He leaned back in the chair, hands gripping the armrests.

"What if the rumors on the Enterprise are true, Len?" Chris said gently. "Maybe he _is_ in love with you." He watched as Len looked a little surprised and then shook his head. "It would explain why he's pulling away from you; or hell, he's pulling away from both of us."

"The only person Jim Kirk is in love with is himself," Len countered, rubbing his hand across his chin.

"You know that's not true. He loves you, Len. He flat out told me that once." Len got up and stood at the window, looking out at the stars in the sky.

"Loving me, and being in love with me," Len began, and turned back towards Chris, leaning on the window sill. "He's not in love with me, Chris."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because one thing I do know about Jim Kirk without a doubt, is that he doesn't give up on something he wants." He crossed his arms over his chest. "If he was in love with me, not only would _I_ know it, but _you'd_ know it too. He'd fight for me. He wouldn't give up. He wouldn't ignore me and run away like he has been."

Chris considered his words for a minute and sighed. "You're right."

Len stood and walked over, sitting down next to him on the bed, gently turning Chris's chin towards him. "Look, even if he was, but I _know_ he's not, it doesn't matter. I'm not in love with him, I'm in love with _you_. Whatever is going on with Jim, as much as I hate it right now, he'll come around when he's ready. I'm sorry that I've been distracted. I'm more than worried about him. He's never been like this in the nearly five years that I've known him. He looks completely lost, and I'm not the only one who's noticed." Len paused a moment, and Chris put his hand on his knee, encouraging him. "He's fine with the crew, he does his job, and then some, but other than chess games with the green-blooded hobgoblin, he completely keeps to himself. He's not even sparring with Sulu in the gym anymore. Even Uhura asked me what was up with him."

"No wonder you're worried," Chris grinned, nudging Len with his shoulder. "You said things were a bit better after the Charles Evans incident?" Len shuddered at the name, and he immediately regretted bringing it up. "I'm sorry, maybe I shouldn't have mentioned it."

"He was at first," Len said, calmly, but Chris could tell his remark about the Evans incident, which Len had ignored, unsettled him. "We even had dinner in the mess a couple times right after, but he could barely even _look_ me in the eye, Chris." He shook his head. "I don't know. Look, enough about Jim," Len said, running his hand through Chris's hair. He leaned forward and gave him a tender kiss that quickly turned heated. "I think you mentioned something about that headboard and me riding you earlier?"

"I did, didn't I?" Chris smiled, leaning forward and giving Len a long, tender kiss. "I'm going to use the restroom; why don't you get undressed and get the lube from my bag." He gave Len another kiss before standing and heading towards the bathroom.

When he came back a few minutes later, he was in his boxers, and surprised to see Len completely naked, standing by the side of the bed. His heart clenched; he was used to finding a modest Len still in his boxer briefs. He was already half hard, and damn, the sight in front of him nearly stole the breath from Chris's chest. "God, you are gorgeous," he said in awe. Once again, he smiled when Len's face flushed a bit.

Chris crawled across the bed, moving the pillows, and settled towards the middle. He slid off his boxers and sat back against the headboard. Len didn't waste any time and climbed up on the bed and straddled his legs. Chris put his hands on Len's hips as Len captured his mouth in a firm kiss, hands on his shoulders. He pulled Len closer, their dicks pressing against each other.

"I missed this," Chris panted, as Len's mouth moved to his neck, sucking, and leaving a mark. "Missed you."

"God, Chris," Len breathed, finding his lips again with a bruising kiss as he rutted against him. "Get me ready."

If Chris hadn't already been hard, those three words would have gotten him there. His lips still on Len's, he reached down for the lube that Len had placed on the bed and squirted some on his fingers. He pressed a finger against Len, who spread his legs a little wider, groaning as Chris's finger slipped in.

Chris loved this. Loved seeing Len like this: eyes slitted, head thrown back, biting his lip as he he added a second and scissored them before turning and just barely brushing his prostate, sending a shudder through Len that even _he_ could feel.

"Now, I need you now," Len sputtered, his eyes opening as he rose up, grabbing on to the top of the headboard as Chris lined his cock up with Len's opening.

Chris couldn't tell whose moan was louder as Len sank down on him.

"Fuck, Len," Chris gasped, as they stilled, taking a moment to adjust. Len kissed him as Chris's hands moved back to his hips. Len rested their foreheads together for a moment, before pulling back and slowly rising up on his knees, sliding slowly, slickly, up and down his cock.

Sharp breaths, grunts and long moans permeated the air as Len rose up and down, his knuckles turning white on top of the headboard. Chris gripped his hips tightly, sure he was leaving marks as he pulled Len down, adjusting his angle so he started hitting his prostate. Len rose all the way up before slamming down, the muscles in his arms bulging as he fought for control.

"Touch me," Len groaned on his way down, leaning down and capturing his lips. Chris let go of one hip and cupped the back of his neck as they kissed, blistering long kisses, tongues dueling, lips biting. He brought his other hand around and encircled Len's half-hard cock, jerking it until it was tall and firm again. "God, yes," he groaned, throwing his head back again. "Yes, Chris. So good."

"That's it, honey," Chris said, releasing the back of his neck, and palming his chest. "So good, baby. You feel so good. Gonna come soon. Come on." He rubbed and twisted one of Len's nipples, watching as his mouth fell open as he moved up and down. "So gorgeous. Look at you."

"Chris..." Len groaned, leaning forward, their foreheads touching, breathing each other's breaths as Chris sped up the movements of his hand, sweat starting to drip down both of their faces.

"Fuck, Len," Chris moaned, gasping. "Yes, fuck. Oh God, yeah, baby. I'm coming. Take it. Take it all." He struggled to keep tugging on Len's cock as he came, long gasping groans escaping his mouth as Len sucked on his neck and then bit down hard as he bucked and spurted, coming all over Chris's chest.

"Christ," Len gasped, stilling, and laving at the bite mark he'd left on Chris's neck. "God, Chris."  
"I know," Chris said, trying to catch his breath, reaching down and wiping up some of the come with his fingers, and bringing them up to Len's mouth. He watched in awe as Len licked and sucked his fingers.

"Fuck, Chris," Len said, as he carefully moved up, Chris's softening cock slipping out of him. He sat back down, keeping his weight off Chris as they kissed and caught their breath, which Chris seemed to be having a hard time doing. "You okay?"

"Not sure," Chris answered, causing Len to immediately move off, sitting on the edge of the bed. He laughed and Len looked even more concerned. "I'm fine, Len." He reached for his hand, pulling it to his chest, across his heart, so Len could feel his heart still pounding in his chest. "You did this to me. You _do_ this to me every time." He brought Len's hand up to his mouth and kissed it. "Every time," he whispered. "I love you, Len. I do, I love you." He suddenly felt all choked up.

"Chris," Len sighed, shaking his head. He leaned over and kissed him languidly. "I love you, too." Chris could feel Len's smile against his mouth as they kissed again. Chris ran his fingers through Len's hair as Len sat up, reaching for the nightstand where Chris had left a warmed cloth earlier. Len cleaned them both up as much as possible before turning off the light and slipping into bed next to Chris, who had slid down on his back, his arm resting lazily across his stomach.

Len turned on his side, wrapping his arm across Chris's stomach, threading their fingers together. As Chris was drifting off, he felt Len brush kisses across his temple.

"Mmmmm," Chris hummed. "Can't stay awake. Sorry."

"It's okay," Len whispered, squeezing his hand. "Get some sleep, darlin'."

"So glad you're here," Chris said sleepily. "So glad." He opened his eyes slightly, wanting one last look at the man next to him, knowing that tonight, there wouldn't be any nightmares to chase away.

He was safe in Len's arms.

  



	24. Were Walking Close at Hand (Part 23 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The correspondence and journals of Chris and Len. A wedding, a Talk with a capital T, and lingering insecurities. Plus, naturally, more mysterious half-hints about Jim.

_**Trek Fic: Were Walking Close at Hand (Pike/McCoy, NC-17)**_  
 **Title:** Were Walking Close at Hand (Part 23 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** Around 6200  
 **Summary:** The correspondence and journals of Chris and Len. A wedding, a Talk with a capital T, and lingering insecurities. Plus, naturally, more mysterious half-hints about Jim.  
 **A/N:** From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) : Thanks all for your restraint regarding Jim of late! No, not THAT kind of "restraints." Pervs. :p [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/): I apologize for not answering comments yet on the 'real time' chapter. Thank you for all the wonderful comments. I promise I will answer as soon as I locate my brain that has been abducted by too much stress in real life this week.

  


  
**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**

_Sunday 2260.168_

Goddammit. I feel like an idiot, doing this. I'm a doctor, not a teenage girl. How do I even start? "Dear Diary"? Oh good god.

I'm typing this, NOT dictating it, because I'm not like Jim, who just loves the sound of his own voice as he narrates his life. Jackass. And yeah, I say that with love. Not THAT kind of love. Jesus Christ, why am I explaining things to my own journal?

Okay. Starting over.

Yesterday Chris and I went to his godson's wedding. I didn't know many people there, and normally that makes me feel awkward as all hell, but Chris is good in situations like that. He stuck like glue to my side, didn't abandon me to the wolves. He knew everyone, so he introduced me around, plus he subtly worked into the conversation names and biographical details of people I'd already met and was supposed to remember, and just generally kept me from making an ass of myself.

That was mostly at the reception, though. At the ceremony, well, we barely got there on time because Chris tried to get too much done at Starfleet in the morning. Man's a worse workaholic than I am, and that's saying something.

So we just barely got seated before they were playing the bridal march. It was a beautiful wedding, even if I barely knew the couple, and Chris was obviously moved. He held my hand tight through the whole thing. Think he might've even choked up a little, but he'd gotten himself under control by the time I got a close look at him.

The reporters either had the good grace to stay away from the church or maybe they just figured they'd have better luck if they camped out at the hotel where the reception was held. I'm betting on the latter. It was annoying, having our picture taken and being yelled at by so many of those vultures on our way into the Fairmont, but it was a gorgeous hotel, hundreds of years old and beautifully restored. Chris had reserved us a room, so we checked in before we went on to the reception. I don't know what I can really say about that except I got a surprise blow job. Not that I'm complaining, mind. I just hope he didn't feel like he had to make something up to me from that morning when he came and I didn't. But whatever his motivation, damn, he gives he best head I've had in my life.

Then the reception, but I've pretty much already described that. Lots of people I didn't know, Chris sticking close so I wouldn't accidentally insult an ambassador or something. I'm exaggerating. I know he wanted to be near me, and I wanted to be near him too. The ambassador thing was just a bonus. Plenty of people were staring at us too - I think there's rampant speculation about whether I'll be the one to finally tame Chris. As if anyone could. As if I'd want to. Morons.

A few people I knew were there. Philip and Allen, obviously, since they're the fathers of the groom. It was good to see them. Philip's taken damn good care of Chris and I'm grateful for it. I'm glad I got to tell him that in person. Sato was there too, and I was less thrilled to see her, but she was on her best behavior. I'm pretty sure she's still lusting after Chris - I mean, who wouldn't - but I think she's got the message loud and clear that he's taken and not interested. Pretty sure I saw her sneak away for a quickie with Chris's helmsman, whose very pretty and very pregnant wife was also at the wedding, but as long as she stays away from Chris, it's no business of mine. Most of Chris's command staff were there, and they all made a point to talk to him and tell him how glad they are that he's on the road to recovery, and how good it is to serve with him. It's different, Chris's relationship with his crew compared to Jim's. With Chris - they're in awe of him. Not quite afraid of him, exactly, but there's a distance there, maybe a slight feeling of intimidation. No one's intimidated by Jim. I mean, we all respect him, and he's a good captain, but he's such a crazy goofball that it's hard to feel that sense of awe. Probably part of it's an age difference thing as well. On the Enterprise, we're all pretty much peers. On the Exeter, you've got Chris who's had a long and distinguished career, while most of his crew are straight out of the academy.

There were also a few people there who I'm pretty sure were exes of Chris. There were more than a couple daggers glared my way, especially when Chris was being particularly attentive to me. To be honest, that was pretty satisfying. I just ignored 'em. Let them eat their hearts out. He's mine now. One of them, a guy named Edward, actually came up to talk to us, and brought up his past relationship with Chris, trying to play it off as a casual mention. At first Chris seemed tense, maybe worried I was going to get upset, but I just poured on the Southern charm and said how very nice it was to meet another one of Chris's ex-lovers, and golly there were so many of them, did they have a club? I told him it was nothing personal, but I hoped he'd understand that I wasn't planning on ever actually joining that club. Edward puffed up and turned red, and I asked him with all apparent sincerity and concern if he had a heart condition, and told him that he was showing symptoms of cardiac stress and maybe he should sit down for a spell. I could feel Chris shaking silently next to me, trying like hell not to laugh. Gotta admit, that was fun.

After the reception, we went back to the room and made love. It's been so tender these last few days. I think we both need that right now - the emotional connection as much as the physical. No holocams, no fancy tricks or props, just the two of us focusing completely on each other. It's been incredible.

Afterward, lying in bed together, I got my communicator and showed him the letter I'd written him that morning. It was mostly about what I was thinking and feeling when we saw each other for the first time after these eight months apart. It's kind of silly, I guess, but I wanted to be there with him, next to him, when he read one of my comms. I always kind of wonder how he reacts when he reads them. I guess I still don't know how he reacts in other circumstances, but at least when he's alone, or with just me, he relaxes, and his face is so open. I can read all of his reactions. I could tell what part of the comm he was on without even looking at it, just by his face. He's so distant and unknowable to most people. I've gotta admit it's a rush to know that I'm one of the only people he lets in. It feels like a sacred trust, and I swear I'm never going to make him regret it.

Anyway, then after he read my letter, he pulled out his own comm unit and showed me the journal entry he'd written about the same events. God damn, that was even more of a rush, that he trusted me enough to show me that. So strange that we had so many of the same thoughts about what happened that night. Well, maybe not that strange after all. We both feel it, this connection between us. I think it scares him more than it scares me, but he's coming around. I don't want to rush him. I can wait until he's ready for the next step, whatever that may be. Whatever it takes, he's worth it.

Huh. I actually managed to do a journal entry. Look at that. Wasn't even too terribly painful. I don't know how to end this, though. Until next time, I guess.

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

Sorry, but I'm going to have to cancel the plans we made for having lunch and playing chess today. I managed to move some meetings up, and after I'm through with those, I'm done and heading out, probably leaving late this afternoon. It's probably better anyway, as I've got a pretty nasty cold, and since Bones mentioned you're still immuno-suppressed... Well, wouldn't want you to catch anything to ruin your time here. That's why I didn't come to the wedding or reception. Didn't think it would be a good idea. Sent a nice gift though.

I hope you and Bones have a great shore leave together. You both deserve it. Since the Exeter is leaving later now, I'll be back several days before she does, so maybe we can reschedule for then.

I will have a comm with me, but I don't plan on checking it much.

Take care,  
Jim

  
**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike**

_Sunday 2260.168_

What a day. What a weekend. I'm not sure I can put all my thoughts into this entry, but since Jim cancelled the plans we had again, here we go.

The wedding. God, it was a beautiful wedding. Matthew and his new wife Alyssa -- I've never seen a more beautiful bride. They were both glowing. So happy and truly such a well-matched couple. I will be sad not to see them here whenever I'm home since they are moving to New York next month. Matthew will be teaching political science at a private school, and Alyssa will continue working on her Ph.D in alien anthropological studies at the Federation College of Universal Species. Of course, they are always a quick shuttle ride away. I wonder if Len has been to New York City -- We might just need to spend a weekend there next time we're here on earth for shore leave.

I'm glad I decided to get the hotel room. Being able to kiss him and taste him in between the ceremony and reception -- Not sure I would have made it through otherwise without dragging him somewhere to get my mouth on on him. I was so proud to be there with Len. So happy. I don't think my hand left some part of his body the entire time we were at the church and again at the reception. I know he said he wanted to feel my hand on him, but I had an inherent _need_ to keep touching him in some way -- Like I had to prove to myself he was there. I was so damn proud to be able to introduce him to everyone. I could have done without the speculative looks from a few people, though. And Edward, god, was he a big mistake in my past. He was a colleague of Allen's and I met him at one of their dinner parties. We hit it off. We saw each other for about four months, about five years ago. It was casual for me, but he was interested in more. A lot more. I wasn't. It was awkward and messy. He commed me for months after. I can't believe Edward had the gall to act like he did, though. I'm surprised I could contain my laughter when Len put him in his place. Fuck, that was hot.

Fuck, he's so gorgeous and he still has no idea. I saw everyone looking at him in his dark suit. God, that man was made to wear a suit. I only wish I had been the one to strip him out of it last night. I'll have to make sure I do that when we're in Florida later this week. Heck, I may just need to fuck him in that suit. God, I'm half hard just thinking about it. I might need to jerk off before my next meeting in thirty minutes.

Last night at the hotel when he rode me, and then him waking me up this morning with his mouth on my cock? Fuck. When he swallowed me down, deep throating me, I thought I was going to come apart. And when he lubed up his fingers and slid them inside me while he sucked? Holy fuck. What that man can do with his mouth and his hands. I came so hard I almost blacked out again. When I came back to my senses, he was licking at the inside of my thigh, and then bringing my legs up over his shoulders. He gazed at me as he slid inside me and -- God. I honestly never liked to bottom before -- I rarely did for anyone. But with Len, there is just this carnal need to have that man inside me. I swear it feels as good as fucking him. Maybe even better.

God, I just came after barely stroking myself a of couple times. Better grab a quick shower before my meeting.

###

Well, latest repair estimates make it look like we're gonna get out of here a week after the Enterprise leaves. Granted, I'm thankful now that Len and I have a few more days together than we would have if the Exeter had gotten in on time. I'm not looking forward to spending that time alone here after he's gone, though. If I have everything settled, I definitely am going to head home to my ranch. There is no way I can stay here, in our apartment, without him. When did I become _that_ person? God, I sound needy and clingy, not like a Starfleet Admiral.

The services this morning -- They were tough. I'm glad Len was there with me. I got a lot more emotional than I thought I would when I spoke. Being able to come back to my seat and having Len there, him threading his fingers through mine -- It's different having support from someone you love. I honestly don't know how I lived this long without it, and I pray I never have to again.

I had some time between appointments a bit ago and was able to talk to Dr. Rossen for a few minutes. She seemed pleased that I was keeping up with the journals. I'm going to go and have a session with her tomorrow during lunch. I had plans with Len, but I hope he can understand how much I need to talk to her.

Speaking of talking, I know Len and I need to talk. Really talk. We've both been kind of -- I don't know, it's not like we're actively avoiding talking about things. We haven't really seen much of each other other than the wedding and reception and it wasn't like we could talk then. And we've been a bit busy reaquainting ourselves -- Oh, who am I kidding? We've been busy fucking. Although, it's not like it was last time. It's been -- I don't know, slower. More intimate, if that makes sense. I think we are both aware of how close we came to losing each other -- Me with the damn bug and Len -- God, he needs to talk to someone about Charles Evans. I know he admitted it had him pretty rattled, and when I brought it up last night -- I don't know what to do for him. I only hope that him being with me is helping, the way it's helped chase my nightmares away just being next to him.

I'm pretty worn out right now. If I didn't have two more appointments, I'd call it a day and go home. I'm surprised I've been able to keep up with Len as much as I have the last couple of days. I think I need to rest tonight, and it will be a good chance for us to have that talk we need to have. Scares the fuck out of me thinking about it -- That I'll say the wrong thing. When I talked to Dr. Rossen today, though, she reminded me that walking on eggshells around each other about the last eight months will only make it worse.

I'm just so relieved, so damn relieved to know, to really know, that what I felt for him wasn't all in my mind. It's scary though, to feel so much for someone.

Well, it's almost time for my appointment and I want to comm Len real quick to make plans for dinner and tonight.

I'm happy though. Really happy. I just pray I don't say something wrong tonight to fuck things up.

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Len,

Just a quick note to let you know I'll be out of here on time. I think I'm going to go home and nap for a bit before our planned dinner, if that's okay, since I know you'll be home later than me. I have to admit, I'm pretty worn out, so I don't think I'll be up to much tonight.

I was hoping we could eat and then sit down on the couch with a bottle of wine and talk. I think we need to. I need to tell you what I've been feeling -- How I feel. We've both been almost on hold because of my issues, and I feel like I owe you not only an apology, but -- Hell, I don't know. You know I'm not good at this stuff, so please forgive me in advance if I make an ass out of myself tonight or say something wrong. I just don't want to act like nothing happened. Because it did.

I also want you to know that if you need to talk more about the Charles Evans incident -- I'm here, Len. I'm worried about you. I want to help if I can.

I love you, Len. Truly. I'll see you soon.

Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Hey Darlin',

Absolutely you should get in a nap. I know you planned on cooking, but Chris, you're tired and you need to rest. Why don't I get some takeout on my way home from that Chinese place you like, and you can pick out a bottle of wine to go with it.

Then, yeah, we'll talk. Good lord, my ex would laugh her head off if she could hear me, actually volunteering for a "relationship talk." You're worth it, though. We're worth it. Even if it's goddamn awkward and uncomfortable and we'll probably both make asses of ourselves.

But no matter what, we'll end the evening on a good note, because I'm going to lay you down in our bed and give you the massage of your life. You're just gonna lie there and relax and I'm going to find every single knot in your body and work it out. If I do it right, you'll be as limp as an overcooked noodle by the time I'm done. Then we'll go to sleep together and just hold each other all night long, and we'll keep each other's nightmares away. How's that sound?

I'll see you tonight.

Love,  
Len

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Len,

Chinese sounds great. Nothing spicy, though. Can't handle that on some of the meds I'm still taking. God, a massage sounds perfect, Len. I'm pretty stressed today, and tired. Might not even drink any wine. It would probably put me to sleep. We will talk, though. I don't want to put it off any longer. Have one more vidcomm that should take about ten minutes and then I'm heading home. Wake me when you get there.

Love you,  
Chris

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**

_Monday 2260.169_

Just gave Chris a long massage and he's out like a light. Don't think I've ever seen him sleeping quite that soundly. I'll get back in bed with him soon, but I wanted to get this journal entry done.

Earlier tonight Chris and I had a "talk." His idea. Probably a good one, but damn, I dread those kind of things. Probably a holdover from my marriage, when being told we needed to have a "talk" meant "you sit here and listen meekly and nod while I tell you everything you do that's bad and wrong". That's probably not fair to Jocelyn, and it's not like I ever followed her script anyway -- I gave as good as I got. But hell, this is my journal, so screw impartiality.

Anyway, THIS talk was nothing like those ones. I'm not sure why Chris was so nervous about it. I thought for sure he was going to rip into me for something I'd done wrong -- lord knows I've done plenty -- but no, he mostly just wanted to tell me a little bit about what's been going on in his head, how hellish it's been these last months, and how glad he is that I didn't abandon him when things got tough. If I didn't think he'd be insulted, I'd say it was adorable. Well, he's never gonna see this anyway, so what the hell? It was adorable. _He_ was adorable. So hopeful and unsure and... grateful, I guess. As if I'd walk away from him that easily. He's the best thing that ever happened to me. I'd have to be the world's biggest fool to give up on that without a fight.

Good god, none of it was his fault. The Centaurian slug, its secretions, all the physical therapy, the PTSD, all the shit he's been through. That's what caused his doubts about us, and what kind of asshole would I be for ditching my partner when he's physically and mentally injured in a way that's completely beyond his control? The kind he's had before, I guess is the answer, because it surely seemed that he expected that that's what I would've done.

Or maybe that's the kind of partner that he's _been_ before. No strings, no obligations, take off if things get heavy. Shit, that makes a lot more sense. I think I just got a chill. God damn it. I wonder if the tables had been turned, if I'd been the one having the doubts, if he would've called it quits. Well, there's no sense speculatin', my grandmother used to say. Probably better not to even think about it. I know things are different between us than with any of his other lovers, though. I hope they're different enough.

Anyway, I also got some stuff off my chest - not so much about Chris, just about crap that's happened since we last saw each other. The way Jim's acting, for one. I told Chris before that I was sure Jim's not in love with me. To be totally honest, I don't know what the hell is going on in his head. I don't think he feels that way about me, but it would explain a lot. And even though I told Chris Jim'd fight for me if that was the case, the truth is, if Jim thought that Chris and I would be happier if he just pined away in silence, then that's what he'd do. Kid's too self-sacrificing for his own good. Still... that doesn't quite feel like the reason he's avoiding us. There's nothing wrong with him physically, so it's not that either. I wish he'd talk to me like he always used to. I know that somehow I'm involved in whatever's bothering him, though, so he's shut himself up like a clam. Wonder if he's confiding in that green-blooded walking computer. There's a thought to give a man nightmares, having that uptight Vulcan as your only source of emotional support.

And then we talked about the stuff with Charlie. Charles Evans. I'm getting over it, I guess, but it's a slow process and patience isn't exactly my finest quality. I still have nightmares about it sometimes, and then when I wake up, there's a part of me that wonders if it was really a nightmare or if his psychic powers are somehow strong enough to reach out to me even across all this distance. Or worse, whether he's escaped and is on the loose again. Everyone on the Enterprise who was involved with that whole mess seems to think it would be impossible for the kid to ever cause any more trouble, that those beings wouldn't allow it to happen, but I'm not so sure. They let him get away once; who says they wouldn't screw up and let him wreak havoc again?

Chris took my concerns seriously, which was a goddamned relief. It was good just having someone listen to me and not try to brush aside my fears and imply that I'm paranoid for even having them. Even Dr. Pagao, for all his professionalism, seemed like he was trying not to roll his eyes at me when I talked about it. But then, he's never been out there in the black. He's got no idea the crazy shit that goes on. Chris knows, though. I think he was half-ready to go to the planet where we found that kid and, I don't know, bomb it into oblivion or something. It was actually kind of sweet. He's so protective on my behalf. Almost chivalrous. I'd never in a million years admit it, but I kind of like it. Oh hell, I like it a lot. He did say that if there was ever the slightest sign that "that psychotic teenage bastard" was back, I should tell him immediately, and he'd make sure that I was protected. He was deadly serious, too. Gotta admit, it makes me feel safer, knowing he's watching out for me. He's a hell of a guardian angel to have. Especially since I'm not sure Jim's on the job anymore, and even when he is -- well, when your guardian angel is suicidally reckless and half the time _you've_ got to protect _him_ , it's not quite the same.

Shit, back to Jim again. Screw it. I'm too worn out to twist myself up over it anymore. I know Chris needs this shore leave, but the truth is, I do too. I've got some briefings later on today, then a few meetings at Starfleet Medical tomorrow, and then I'm done. Nervous about meeting Chris's parents, but curious as all get-out too.

Guess that's it for now, then.

Well, maybe I'll write Jim a short comm. Then, back where I should be, in bed with Chris.

To: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Jim,

Maybe this'll work better than my other attempts to talk to you, since you're on the other side of the planet and have a little time and space to yourself.

I don't know what's going on with you, or with us, but I want you to know that we WILL be talking about it when you get back. I've let you avoid me for long enough.

You're my friend, Jim, my best friend. Hell, the best friend I've ever had in my life. Maybe I've been caught up in this thing with Chris and I've been neglecting that friendship. If that's the case, I'm sorry.

If it's something else, god damn it, man, you've got to tell me what it is. You know me well enough by now to know that I don't give up on people unless I've got no choice, and that goes double for you. Our friendship is important to me, Jim. Just as important as my relationship with Chris. And right now, my place is with you on the Enterprise. That's my choice, Jim, not something that I was forced into or that I resent. I want to be there with you - hell, with all of the crew. Even, god help me, that pointy-eared hobgoblin.

So if you're worried that I'm gonna be leaving - I'm not, Jim. Who else is going to patch you up when you pull one fool stunt after another? And who else is going to drive me crazy and stop me from ever working myself up into a good sulk?

Damn it, Jim, talk to me.

Your friend,  
Bones (I can't believe I just called myself that, by the way.)

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike**

_Monday 2260.169_

It's early. Len is still sleeping, and I couldn't sleep anymore so I figure I'd get this out of the way while my memory is still fresh.

Len and I talked last night. I'll admit, I was scared to death. I've never done anything like that before. But one of the books I've been reading, it really stresses the importance of 'airing things out' so minor bumps don't become mountains. Not that anything that happened between us since we were last together in October was minor. But we're here. We made it somehow. Fuck if I know how, but I'm not going to question it.

I guess I do know how: Len. I don't know why he stood by me through all of it -- I'm not sure if I would have done the same for him, and that's hard to admit, even here to myself where he'll never see it. Maybe I should have told him, but part of me thinks he probably already knows.

I'm not sure how good of a job I did last night explaining how I felt all those months -- What was going on in my head. I know I stumbled and God, I even stuttered a few times. I really could have used a glass of wine or four, but I knew, as tired as I was, I'd fall asleep. I swear my hands were even sweaty at one point, and that hasn't happened to me since I asked someone to prom.

Len was wonderful, though. Encouraging me when I was struggling to find the words to say to him. I told him how I felt horrible and guilty as hell for what I put him through. God. If he had told me the same thing I had? That he had doubts? I don't think I would have been -- No, I know I wouldn't have been as supportive as he was. He was the only thing holding me together all those months, and I told him that. He seemed taken aback by that. Which makes me feel even worse because I honestly don't know what I would have done in his place. I know it's pointless to think about now, because it never happened, but he had every right after I sent that comm admitting my doubts -- after he'd already figured it out -- to tell me he'd had enough and to fuck off. I would not have blamed him.

So I hope last night, I apologized enough. Made him understand what I was feeling all that time -- It was important to me that he knew that. And I've learned that I can't just bottle up these doubts, that I have to get them out somehow. If I can't with him, then in this journal. I know I'm slowly finding myself again -- The man that I was before the Narada. But I've also realized, and I admitted it to him, that I will never be that exact man again. Because Len's changed me. I'm different now. I still can't put my finger on it, and I'll admit that scares me a little. I can't yet say I'm a better man now, because I still -- Well, I have a ways to go before I feel like I can say I'm back to whatever 'normal' is for me now. And will I even know when I get there? All I know is that I'm glad I have Len, because I know that no matter what happens, I have someone to help me get through whatever challenge I'm facing. I've never had that before. I've always handled everything myself. In some ways, I still do, and I don't think that will ever change, but I have to admit it's nice knowing that if I can't -- Well, he has my back just like I have his.

Hearing him talk about the Charles Evans incident was hard. One thing I've learned though all of this is that fear isn't rational. You can know or be told there is no possibility of something happening, but it can still wake you up in the middle of the night. I've studied the reports and even read the SFI investigative report and am satisfied there isn't a chance in hell that he could ever do anything to Len, or anyone else, for that matter. I have Jim to thank for that. I could have easily lost not only Len, but Jim too. So I'm almost thankful that Len and Jim haven't been as close as usual, because I'm sure if he'd picked up on their connection, he would have killed Jim, just like he intended to kill me. Len isn't the only one having nightmares about this. But I know it will fade in time, and in the meantime I just need to let him talk about it when he needs to.

I have to say that it was also good for me to know that we could sit down like that and talk. I know it won't always be that easy -- not that it was easy, exactly, but we talked for a good three hours, about everything and nothing. It was nice, and this is where I admit that it was a relief that we could do something like that without it turning into us having sex. I mean, I know a lot of our relationship has been based on sex. There were times in the past when that worried me. I mean, what happens down the road when the urge to fuck each other senseless is gone? Is there enough to keep us together otherwise? What happens ten years down the line when we're living together? Will it get old? Will the sex not be as good? So knowing we could sit and talk, and just be together and be content -- Well, it's quelled a few more lingering doubts. I think last night was the first night since we've been together that we didn't have sex, and that was okay. It was _more_ than okay. The massage he gave me -- It was amazing. I felt so relaxed afterwards and so -- well, I felt so loved, that it didn't matter that we weren't sexually intimate. I fell asleep on my stomach with his arm draped across my back and woke up the same way an hour ago. That never happens. I always toss and turn at night.

Another thing I worry about -- well, I know I can do the monogamy thing. But I've been in relationships before, and the urge to have sex with someone attractive -- Well, it's always there. These almost two years I've been with Len now -- I honestly don't think I've looked at another man or woman, thinking I might want to be with them. That's never happened to me before. I never acted on any of those urges in other relationships, but I still had them. But I'm worried about the day when I do. What happens then? The longest I've been faithful was to my wife, and if I want to be honest with myself, watching porn and fantasizing about half the people you meet while married -- Well, I may have never had sex with anyone else, but that doesn't mean I didn't _want_ to, or fantasize about it more than I should have. I worry about that happening down the road, especially if we're still apart.

And god, Len is an attractive man. He truly is the most gorgeous man I've ever been with. What if he wakes up one day and realizes that? What if he meets someone when we've been apart for, god help us, a year? That could easily happen, and he'd have absolutely no trouble finding someone else. None at all. He may think my gray hair is sexy now, but what about when I'm all gray? And not as good-looking as I am now? It's scary thinking about the day he might wake up and not want someone so old. I'm twenty-two years older than him. Fuck, that's scary as hell to type out.

Shit, I have to get ready for work now. Thank god I'm almost done. I'll probably work late tonight and I have a couple of appointments in the morning. Then I'm going to go pick up my ring, and we leave on a shuttle early Wednesday morning. God, I can't wait. This weekend, after our stop in Florida, I'll actually be in Georgia with Len.

It can't come soon enough.

  



	25. The Eldest Oyster Winked His Eye (Part 24 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The correspondence and journals of Chris and Len. It's time for Len to meet the parents! Dun dun DUN.

_**Trek Fic: The Eldest Oyster Winked His Eye (Pike/McCoy, NC-17)**_  
 **Title:** The Eldest Oyster Winked His Eye (Part 24 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** Around 8700  
 **Summary:** The correspondence and journals of Chris and Len. It's time for Len to meet the parents! Dun dun DUN.  
 **A/N:** From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) : NAKED JELLO WRESTLING. I'm not even kidding. :p [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/): SHE LIES. THERE IS NO JELLO! There may be some crème though. I make no promises!

  


**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**

_Wednesday 2260.171_

Oh dear god, I can't believe the butterflies in my stomach. It's utterly ridiculous for a grown man to feel this nervous.

Backing up. We flew into Florida this morning. I don't think I'll ever feel completely secure in a surface-to-surface shuttle, but at least I can cope with it now without getting stinking drunk. Chris kept up a constant stream of conversation, obviously to keep me distracted, which was sweet, if pretty transparent. It mostly worked. I think I still must've looked awful when we disembarked, though, because he took one look at me and hustled me into a quiet corner to sit down while he took care of getting the rental car.

I was grateful for it until I saw what he'd rented - a hover-convertible. God damn it, those things are flying death traps. I told him so but he only laughed at me and made me get in so he could drive us to our hotel. He wasn't laughing, though, by the time I finished quoting him all the statistics and telling him about the times I've had to pick up the gory pieces -- literally -- when one of those things wrecks. In fact, his knuckles were pretty much white on the steering wheel by the time we got to the hotel. If he thinks twice before he gets one of those things again, I'll consider it a job well done. I do NOT want my first meeting with his parents being in my professional capacity, with me informing them that their son got his fool head smashed in because he had to drive a flashy vehicle.

Come to think of it, though, I'd probably feel more comfortable if I _was_ meeting his parents in my professional capacity. I could meet the Federation President, and if I were in a hospital, wearing scrubs, doing my goddamned job, I wouldn't treat her any different than I'd treat anyone else. It's only in a social situation that I get so damn awkward.

It's idiotic, I know. I mean, they're just people. And they're the people who raised Chris to be the incredible man he is, so how bad could they be? The only thing I've got to remember is not to bring up Terra Prime, not that that'll be difficult since I never talk politics unless forced to. Call them "sir" and "ma'am" - I think my mama'd rise up from the grave and slap me upside the head if I didn't. Shake his father's hand firmly, look him in the eye. Shouldn't be tough -- my intentions are honorable, after all. Well, not entirely, but no way in hell I'm going into _that_ topic. Tell his mama she looks beautiful, even if she looks like an elephant's rear end. Which I'm sure she doesn't, to have a son as gorgeous as Chris. But then, genetics can play some funny tricks. I remember my cousin Titus -- oh good lord. I'm rambling to avoid the topic. IN MY OWN JOURNAL. Somebody shoot me now and put me out of my misery.

Last time I did a meet-the-parents deal was with Joss's parents. Good lord, that was a nightmare. They sniped at each other the whole time, which was goddamned uncomfortable. On top of that, obviously her daddy thought I was nowhere near good enough for his little girl, and the way her mama looked at me _still_ gives me the willies when I think about it. Like she was a lion and I was a nice juicy steak or something. I remember when I told Jim about it, he laughed and said "here's to you, Mrs. Robinson," which I'm sure is some ancient quote that I should know.

The hotel we're staying at is incredibly luxurious. It makes me a bit nervous, actually, because anytime I step outside of the room, there are staff people constantly hovering to ask if I need or want anything, and I swear they're eyeing me like they think I'm going to break a vase or use the wrong fork or something equally horrifying. Chris says he stays at places like this because part of what you're paying for is the guaranteed privacy from reporters and photographers. I get that, I do, but this is his bailiwick, not mine, and I feel pretty damn out of place. He's in his element, though, and it shows. It's sexy as hell, actually.

He's just as at home in a five-star restaurant as he is in the Starfleet Academy mess hall, which is about the least fancy place I can think of. Somehow he never comes across as snobby, though. Arrogant, maybe a little, but that's because he's confident in his abilities, not because he was born into money. And good lord, I've got to confess I find his arrogance hot as hell. There's something about a person being good at what they do and damn well _knowing_ it that gets me every time.

All right, just enough time to grab a shower and make myself look somewhat presentable before we meet his parents for lunch. Chris told me he picked someplace casual so it won't feel quite so much like an inquisition. I've just gotta remember that no matter how much of a fool I make of myself in front of his parents, he's not going to dump me for it. I hope.

Oh lord. I think I might throw up.

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike**

_Wednesday 2260.171_

Well, despite the fact that I was convinced that Len was going to have a heart attack before lunch with my parents, today couldn't have gone any better.

I'll admit, I did have a hard time not laughing at him today. I know he doesn't like shuttles, but I never realized how much. It's a good thing it's such a short flight or I might have run out of topics to talk about to distract him. And his face when he saw what I rented? That time I did laugh, until he went into one of his tirades about accident statistics and a few fairly graphic stories from his days in Atlanta emergency rooms. That stopped the humor in the situation pretty quick, but despite what he thinks, he didn't change my mind about them. I'll just have to work on changing _his_ mind about them before our time here is done.

I think Len is a little uncomfortable with the fact that I got us a penthouse suite at the hotel. I wasn't lying when I told him that I stay at exclusive and expensive hotels for security and control of the press to some extent. But frankly, I like staying at nice places where everything I need is at my beck and call. I'm not sure what Len would think of me if I admitted that to him. It's not like he doesn't know. I'm sure he's done his share of newsnet searches to know that -- well, actually, I take that back. Considering he didn't even know who my family was, he probably doesn't know that much about some of the things from my younger days that were splashed across the news.

I tried to get him to come with me this morning to get a massage, but he refused, muttering something about how the only hands that were ever going to touch him were mine. There was part of me that liked that, but then I started feeling a little guilty for getting one myself. But I needed it, and it's not like it's sexual in any way. And he did arrange for me to have one before, so it's probably just him. I'll have to remember to talk to him about that. When I came back, I swear he'd made a groove in the carpet from all the pacing he did. If I hadn't come back so late, I would have fucked him to calm him down. As it was, we barely made it on time to meet my parents.

I do think it went well. Like I told him before, my mother already loved him because he was a doctor. Why that old adage still holds true in these days and times with her, I don't know. But I know she'd also be happy for me if I was marrying a plumber. She just wants me to be happy, and like she told me when my father and Len took a walk after lunch, she's never seen me happier. And it's true.

I was most relieved that Len and my father hit it off so well. In fact I sat there with my jaw open at one point when they got into a pretty serious discussion about ethics in Starfleet. I was damn proud of how he didn't let my father mow over him with his opinions and he wasn't afraid to disagree and share his own. I know my father was impressed, and my mother simply sat there smiling. I almost wish I'd scheduled more time here now, but at the time I thought a three-day visit was a good introduction in case things didn't go well.

The real test will be tomorrow when he meets my grandmother. She was at her tango lesson today, which is why she didn't join us for lunch. She takes her dancing pretty seriously. God bless her. She's still going strong. I only hope I'm that spry when I'm her age. It's ironic that Len doesn't seem as nervous about meeting her, when _she's_ the one he should really be worried about. Not that it really matters. If they didn't approve, it wouldn't make a difference to me. Sure, it would hurt and not be the best situation for a relationship. I'm just glad that's something I don't have to worry about. I can't wait for him to meet the rest of the family. In fact, I invited Annie to meet us for dinner here at the hotel tonight. The more people Len knows before Friday, the less nervous he'll be, since I know he isn't exactly comfortable at crowded social occasions. I should probably do more to prepare him, because there _will_ be press at the party, but I think he's better off not knowing, to some extent. I know I mentioned it to him in our letters before. I guess I'll just gently remind him and then have a word with my parents sometime tomorrow to make sure the press stay away from him.

Len is swimming laps at the hotel pool right now. I'm supposed to be sleeping, but I'm writing this entry instead. My nerves always show themselves _after_ stressful situations. I was way too wound up to sleep when he left. I thought of joining him in the pool, but if I did, I know I would be too tired for sex tonight. I know he'll say he doesn't care, but I do. I _need_ to be with him. Plus, we have a hot tub that I'm looking forward to spending some time in with him.

Well, writing this has helped get rid of the nerves. I'm feeling a bit tired now, so I think, since we're not meeting Annie until 2000, I'll rest until Len gets back. That will probably keep me out of trouble with him too, although damn his tirades are hot. Might be worth it.

I feel like everything in my life is finally coming together. God, I couldn't be happier.

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**

_Thursday 2260.172_

Meeting Chris's parents went okay. I think. I hope. There weren't any screaming fights or contemptuous glares or frightening lustful looks from people old enough to be my parents. Well, _Chris_ is technically old enough to be my parent, so I guess that'd be people old enough to be my grandparents. Oh dear lord, what a thought.

I know Chris worries about being too old for me, like I'll get sick of him, or one day wake up and suddenly realize "Good god, he's got wrinkles, where's the door?" but that'll never happen. I wish I could make him believe that. I'm more worried that he'll get sick of me. I'm not sophisticated like he is, not socially adept and comfortable in all the situations that he is. Truth is, he could do far better than me. But I do know that no one could love him more or better than I do, and I'm a selfish bastard who wants to keep him for myself, so as long as he's willing to put up with me, I'm sticking around.

Anyway, back to the meeting. His parents weren't exactly what I expected. Chris is one of the most intense people I've ever met. He's completely focused, almost all the time. I assumed that one or both of his parents would be like that too, and that was half of what was making me so nervous. When that intensity is focused on you, it can be damn scary. I remember when I snuck Jim aboard the Enterprise, and Chris - he was Captain Pike to me then, of course - found out about it and said we'd "have words," I swear my whole life flashed before my eyes.

But either his parents aren't like that, or else they were just keeping it under wraps yesterday. His father's an intelligent man - no surprise there - and passionate about what he believes in. He's quieter than I expected, more introverted, until you get him talking about a subject close to his heart. He's obviously ambitious or at least once was, to have gotten to the position he did, when he could have just lived on the family money. But somehow I don't get the sense that he's driven in the same way Chris is. Don't know how to explain it better than that. There was an undercurrent of tension between Chris and his father, though, and good lord did that bring back memories. Seemed like they were both making an effort to bridge the gap, though, which was good to see.

I think I spent more time talking to Chris's father than Chris did, actually. We got to talking a bit about the Prime Directive, and how it affected his work when he was in Starfleet and how it affects my work as a doctor. For the most part I agreed with him, though there were a couple points where we differed. I was getting a little carried away, talking about one of those points, when I happened to glance down at my ring and I saw that it was practically glowing amethyst. I looked at Chris because I couldn't quite believe it, and, well, a casual observer probably wouldn't have noticed anything much, but he was looking just a bit dazed and his pupils were definitely dilated. So I guess it turns him on when I'm being outspoken and opinionated. Never thought I'd find someone who actually enjoys that particular quality of mine, but hell, works out well for both of us, I'd say. I'll have to keep that little tidbit in mind for the future. It was damn hard not to react to it, lean over and kiss him long and hard right in front of his folks. I don't think his father noticed anything, as caught up in our discussion as he was, but his mother definitely did. She had a knowing little smile on her face that thankfully, Chris did not see. She interrupted the discussion between me and his father - which was probably a good idea, seeing as how it was getting a bit heated - by asking about my "unusual" ring and its color-changing properties. I thought I was going to choke on my iced tea. She's got an artist's eye for detail, that's for damn sure. Luckily Chris covered for me with some bland explanation about it being a rare crystal picked up on a faraway planet, which diverted the discussion into safer channels.

Chris's mama is a peach. Smart as a whip, and with charisma to spare. It's easy to see where Chris got his way with people. Both of them have kind of an aura about them, it makes you want to do whatever you can to please them. It's different on her than on him, though - with him, there's a sense of power and authority behind it. He was born to command, there's no doubt about that. On Mrs. Pike - and there's no way I'm calling her Willa, no matter what she said - it's more a sense of openness and comfort. She's easy to talk to, makes you feel accepted. Chris's parents, working together, would be a formidable team. I'm willing to bet that during Mr. Pike's diplomatic career, just as much got done by people informally approaching Mrs. Pike as happened through formal channels. She's just the kind of person that you feel comfortable bringing your troubles to. She obviously dotes on Chris, too. She invariably calls him "Christopher," and whenever she says it, he unconsciously sits up just a little straighter. It would be hilarious except that I found myself doing the same thing when she called me "Leonard."

Physically, Chris favors both of his parents. He's got his father's coloring, but his mother's more delicate, almost impish, facial features. They're all three attractive people, but I think Chris got the best of both worlds. Watching them together is a kick, but I'm not gonna lie, it also hurts a little. Makes me remember my own parents, some of the good times we had. I know Chris loves his folks, but I also know how easy it is to take them for granted. I know I always did with mine until they were gone.

Moving on. Last night we had dinner with Annie at the hotel. She's a sweetheart. It felt like talking to an old friend, especially since she's spent so much time at my place in Georgia. Almost the whole conversation revolved around the house and grounds, and what she'd done to restore them, some of the things she found, and questions she had about the place. She and Chris are obviously good friends, and very comfortable with each other, and that's good to see. They're both as excited as kids at Christmas to get my reaction when I finally see it. We had to promise to vidcomm Annie as soon as I've had the grand tour so she can see my face.

After dinner, Chris and I went back up to our room and made love for hours. Not that it was strenuous or intense the whole time, we just spent time exploring each other, kissing and touching without rushing to orgasm. It was amazing. There's a jacuzzi tub in the suite that we made good use of, and we spent some time telling each other some of the fantasies we'd had during our time apart. God damn, that was hot. Embarrassing, but hot. We've shared fantasies via comm before, but somehow it's more intimate when you're actually looking each other in the eyes, and when you can actually tell how the other person is reacting physically to your words.

I'd go into more detail but we're meeting Chris's grandmother in just a little while and there's no way I'm getting myself all worked up before _that_.

Better go. More later.

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike**

_Thursday 2260.172_

Len is writing a journal entry right now so I guess I might as well too. This whole journal thing -- Well, I can't say that I like it. And it seems even weirder that two grown successful men are currently sitting in a hotel room writing at the same time. But I have to admit, reluctantly, when I'm worried or anxious, writing down what's on my mind has been helping.

Dinner with Annie last night was great. It's always good to see her in person instead of via vidcomm. I'm closer to her than anyone else in my family. She was the one to literally keep me going every day after I lost Robin. She walked that road a few years earlier, after her husband was killed on an away mission. I was the one that introduced her to him, was best man at their wedding. She is probably the sole reason that I didn't drink myself to death and resign from Starfleet at the time. She visited me every weekend in the hospital after the Narada too. I owe her so much, but like she's always telling me, she keeps going by being able to do things for others. That's why I knew she was the perfect person to fix up the Georgia homestead. Once Len and I are there, and he decides what else he wants to do, I think I'll put her to work restoring the rest. As much as she was gushing about the house with the simple things she did, I know she'd love to finish renovating it. So I would be able to make two people I love happy in doing so.

After dinner we came back to the room and made use of the hot tub. God, it felt great to be in there. I was pretty worn out, so I wasn't up for much. We must have stayed in there for over an hour. At first we just relaxed, sipping some wine. After a while, the need to touch each other was overwhelming. We were sitting on opposite sides, my feet were on one side next to Len and his next to me. I reached over and pulled one of his feet into my lap. He almost went under and I laughed as he splashed at me. But as soon as my thumb dug into the arch of his foot, he let a moan out that went straight to my cock, and by the time I finished that foot and picked up the other one, he was flushed. I moved my foot over to his lap and found him completely hard.

Five minutes later, he ended up in my lap on the cushioned bench. His hand -- God I love his hands -- wrapped around both our cocks as we kissed, and he slowly, almost tortuously, brought us both to orgasm. I swear, I nearly passed out again from the heat of the water and the way he makes me feel. We probably sat there another fifteen minutes, him still in my lap, just kissing and touching and God -- I'm already dreading letting him go in two weeks. My legs were like rubber when we finally climbed out and took a quick shower. We ended up ordering strawberries, crème, and champagne. We spent the next two hours feeding each other -- God, there was a moment when Len put a huge strawberry halfway in his mouth and then leaned over so I could bite the other half. I ended up with its juice all over my chin and neck and he licked and sucked it all off. Fuck, that was hot. We did that a few more times until we were both a mess. When I was getting pretty tired, I scooped the crème and spread it all over his groin and dick. I then spent the next fifteen minutes licking it off and then sucked him until he came in my mouth. He shuddered, completely falling apart in a way I've never seen him do before. Hot doesn't even begin to describe what he looked like. Needless to say, he actually fell asleep before I did for once.

I woke up this morning not feeling that great, to be honest. I think Len can tell, but he's keeping his mouth shut for now. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not. He's watching me like a hawk, especially when I get up and move around -- Because yeah, I'm a little unsteady on my feet today. I may see if my mom's acupuncturist can get me in sometime this afternoon. I know it's simply that -- Well, I've been doing too much the week I've been back. I'm out of shape and still recovering and it's frustrating as hell. I commed Philip about adjusting some of my meds to see if that will help -- just temporarily. I haven't taken a couple of them for the last few days, or, to be honest with myself, for about a week. Yeah, it's probably stupid, but dammit, I want to be able to make love with my boyfriend and not feel exhausted afterwards, needing to rest a day or two before I can again. Hopefully Philip will comm back and come up with something to help for now. I swear to God once I'm back on Exeter I'll do every damn thing I need to be back in tip top shape, but right now -- I need this time with Len more than anything else.

Well, Len just took off to go swim laps at the pool. He asked me to come with him and I declined, telling him I had some Starfleet business to take care of. Not a complete lie, because I will be answering some comms and making several calls after I finish this entry. But if I swam laps with him -- Well, he'd know pretty quickly just how worn out I really am.

I just commed my mom and she was able to get me an appointment this afternoon with her acupuncturist. That's a relief. It's close to their house, so I think I'll just leave Len there, since I know he thinks it's hogwash and would probably tell the poor acupuncturist so, at great length, if he went with me. Besides, that will give him more time to spend with my parents and for him to get used to my grandmother. I want him to feel comfortable with them. I know it has to hurt -- Well, I could see the ache in his eyes yesterday, probably thinking of his own parents. I can't imagine not having mine around. My mom and I talked about that, and hopefully someday, he can think of them as his own. Plus, if I leave Len there, I don't have to be present when they pull out all the holos and videos from my youth that will embarrass the hell out of me. He'll probably enjoy it.

Time to take care of that Starfleet business and then it should be time to head to my parents' house. I'm going to get a kick out of seeing my grandmother and Len together. Something tells me they are going to get on like fire -- Once she puts him through the wringer, that is.

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)

Bones,

I'm in Bangkok. This is the first time I've checked my comm since I left. Not sure where I'm going yet, just anywhere without people. It's harder than I expected... they even recognize me here. At least on the bike, with a helmet, I can blend into obscurity for the most part.

I saw holos of you and Chris from the wedding. They were splashed all over the newsnets here. It was kind of scary riding through a small village and then getting more into town and seeing your face plastered on a huge screen in city center. You looked good, Bones. You clean up well.

Do me a favor and quit worrying about me. I'm fine. Just enjoy your shore leave with Chris. Your happiness is all that matters to me, Bones.

I'm just about to hit the open road again, and yes, I'm being careful. I promise I won't do anything to interrupt your shore leave.

Jim

p.s. The women here are HOT!

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**

_Friday 2260.173_

I guess technically it's Friday now since it's after midnight. We just a bit ago got back from Chris's parents' place, and now I'm sitting in the hotel bar, which is a dim, swanky place with a live piano player. It's kind of nice. Quiet, and everyone minds their own business.

First, let me get this thing with Jim off my chest. I didn't talk to Chris about it - I don't know why, exactly. Part of me is still worried that he's jealous over my relationship with Jim, and I really don't want to fan those particular flames. Plus - I don't know what it is exactly, but whatever's bothering Jim, it's got to be personal. I don't know that he'd want me dissecting it with Chris. Or maybe I'm just selfish and I want to keep my relationship with Jim a little apart from Chris, and vice versa.

Anyway, Chris is upstairs in the room. I told him I was going for a swim. I wasn't lying -- I did go for a long swim, but I also needed a bit of time to think things through and maybe comm Jim back. This last comm, it worries me, a lot. He didn't even acknowledge anything I said, and that's not like him. And saying that my happiness is all that matters to him, and that he won't do anything to interrupt my shore leave -- he knows damn well, or he should know, that I'm not going to be happy unless I know he's okay, and that he's not a god damned _interruption_. Something dire is going on in that boy's fool head and I don't know what the hell it is.

Okay, this is going to sound really really idiotic. It sounds idiotic even in my head. But here goes. We've got a code word. Near the beginning of the Academy, one night, we were both a little bit stoned on some Argellian weed that Jim got somewhere. Anyway, it made us both a little more maudlin and sentimental than usual. That evening, we swore our undying friendship, and Jim made up a code word that we could use if either of us needed the other one to be there - no jokes, no posturing, no sarcasm. Not like an emergency - and yeah, we've got a separate code word for that, to alert the other if we're under duress or in a life-threatening situation or whatever. This one was just a word to let the other one know that it's time to cut the bullshit and be serious. And we both swore to honor it. In the five-plus years we've known each other now, I've used it twice, and Jim's used it once. And no, I'm not ready to write about those times. But I'm thinking maybe it's time to comm Jim with that word, see if that cuts through all the crap he's been flinging my way.

My biggest fear is that if I do use the word, and he still doesn't tell me what's going on - well, that'll be the death knell for our friendship. Then I'll know that he doesn't want to keep the pact we made that night. Maybe we were under the influence, but both of us knew what we were doing and that night and our agreement has been the basis for the most rock-solid friendship I've had in my whole damn life. I'm not really sure how I'd get along without it.

Jim keeps his word. I know he does. But I also know that he hates ultimatums. Nothing's more likely to get him to walk away from you than giving him an ultimatum, which is what I'd be doing.

Shit. I hoped the swim would clear my head, but I'm just as muddled as I was before. The thing is, I'm not ready to put our friendship to the test. Not right now. A year ago, six months ago, I would have sworn that nothing could cause Jim to ever break that promise he made to me, but now... I just don't know. And I'm a goddamned coward, because I don't _want_ to know. So I think for now, I'm just going to ignore his latest comm. Give him some time and space. But if by the time we're back on the Enterprise, he hasn't opened up, I'm going to have to man up and call him on his shit. Use the word, and make him either fish or cut bait. God _damn_ it. I hope it doesn't come to that.

All right, well, I've at least made a decision for now. So far, I've been doing okay at keeping the shit with Jim from affecting my mood too much. The last thing I want - the last thing Jim would want - is for our problems to ruin my time with Chris. God, Chris. I love him so goddamned much it scares me. I think I'd do just about anything he wanted me to.

He likes my body. He likes seeing me naked. It took me a while to actually believe that he finds me _that_ attractive, but really, there are physical reactions that can't be faked, or at least not easily and not consistently over a long period of time. So I suppose I've just got to accept that when he says all those things about how gorgeous I am, he really means it. I still feel a bit awkward -- I've always been kind of modest about my body. Not because I think I'm awful-looking -- I don't, I just don't think I'm particularly exceptional. It's because, I don't know, it was instilled in me during my upbringing, or hell, maybe I was just born that way. I feel odd and uncomfortable just letting it all hang out, even with someone I'm intimate with. But the way Chris looks at me when I walk from our bed to the bathroom naked, or when I dry off after a shower and then take care of shaving and brushing my teeth without putting any clothes on, well, it's flattering, to say the least. And I must admit, being so uninhibited around Chris does feel a little bit... I don't know, maybe liberating is the word I want. It feels nice.

Speaking of uninhibited - the other night, when we shared some of our fantasies, that was quite an experience. I think some of the stuff I told Chris shocked him a bit, and I know that the reverse was true. I knew he was a kinky bastard, but damn. I'm kind of impressed, actually. The stuff we were telling each other isn't stuff that we'd necessarily ever really want to do - or at least, I wouldn't necessarily want to - but it's goddamned hot to think and talk about. I told Chris about my exhibitionist fantasies. Fucking him, or being fucked by him, in front of an audience, getting them hot to the point where they'd have to touch themselves, just from watching us. I'm sure there's some psychological explanation about wanting to publicly claim and be claimed, staking territory or whatever. I don't really give a damn. I get hot under the collar thinking about it, and that's enough for me. He seemed to enjoy hearing about it.

His fantasies were more about control and domination, and I'm sure that has psychological roots too, and I'm equally sure that I don't care about those explanations either. He told me that he'd wanted to fuck me hard the morning we left for Georgia. Then he'd make me wear a butt plug for the entire car ride. He decided that a) he wasn't up for the rough fucking that he wanted to give me and b) it would be too hard on me to have to wear the plug for that long car ride and c) he didn't want me to have a plug up my ass when I first saw my restored childhood home. God, I had to laugh at that. He's so fucking sexy, so thoughtful, and so pragmatic at the same time. It's quite a combination. He also mentioned that he'd had a fantasy of taking me to a sex club that he knows of in San Francisco, making me wear a leash and not much else. He'd show me off to everyone there, make me service him however he felt like it, and then as a reward he'd let me come. He'd let everyone look at me, watch me, but no one else but him would be allowed to touch me. I have to admit, that scenario really turned me on.

The next morning, though, I could tell he wasn't feeling 100%. He didn't admit it, of course, and neither of us brought it up, but I don't like to see it. It's a constant conundrum, when to nag him about his health and when to leave it alone. Yeah, I know he's a grown man who doesn't need a full-time nursemaid, but I also know he's liable to neglect his own health if given half a chance. He's also liable to get really pissed off if I ever say anything about it. I don't want to cause conflict with him, especially when we've got so little time together, but what kind of a relationship would we have if I feel like I can't say what's on my mind? Especially with regard to his health, when I'm actually qualified to offer an opinion on that subject. Good lord, I'd forgotten how damn difficult relationships are, how much work, even when two people really love each other.

All right, enough seriousness. I met his grandmother finally. I'd heard so much about her that I was really damn curious. She is a rip. I don't think I've met anyone quite like her before. At first, she was embarrassing the hell out of me with some of the outrageous things she was saying, until I cottoned on that she was doing it on purpose to get a rise out of me. Once I figured that out, I dished it right back and we got on great. She told me some fantastic stories about Chris when he was growing up. Probably some that he would absolutely cringe to hear. I'm definitely going to save those to use as ammunition at the appropriate time. She's an absolute goldmine of blackmail material, so I'm gonna have to make a point to stay on her good side. I also got to hear some more mundane details of Chris's life growing up, and those were just as great. There's nothing about that man that doesn't interest me. God, I've got it bad. I sat with his parents and his grandmother and looked at what must have been hundreds of family holos, while he was at his acupuncture appointment. Willa - and I can't believe I'm calling her that, but she absolutely insists, and she's not the kind of woman that it's easy to say no to - said she'd send me copies of some of them. He was an adorable kid, and a handsome young man, but I think he gets even more attractive with every year that passes. He takes my breath away, sometimes. I'll just look at him and it's like my heart stops and I can't believe that I'm lucky enough to be with him.

Chris's grandmother -- Grandma Kathleen, she said to call her -- got me to admit as much, right in front of Chris's parents. Thank god Chris wasn't there or I think I would've melted into the floor in humiliation. As it was, Chris's father got all gruff and slapped me on the back, and Willa and Grandma Kathleen got misty-eyed and gave me hugs. I kind of feel like the shaggy stray dog who's been adopted. I swear, Starfleet missed out on a prime opportunity by not recruiting Grandma Kathleen as an interrogator. We'd have the Klingons and Romulans falling all over themselves to tell us all their secret plans after five minutes with her.

God damn it, it's almost 0200 already and the bar's looking to close up. I'd better wrap this up. Don't know why I'm down here mooning over Chris anyway, when I could be in our bed, holding him.

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike**

_Friday 2260.173_

I'd really like to know _why_ when I'm on vacation, I've been waking up at 0530 in the morning. Shit. I've never been a morning person, and Len and I are going to Palm Beach today to shop, so I was really hoping to sleep in. I thought about going to Miami, but it's twice as long and frankly, I think Len might be a little overwhelmed with that city. Hundreds of years certainly haven't changed that city much. The only thing that has changed is the increasingly open attitude to all sexual orientations and races, both human and alien. It can get pretty wild still. Next trip I will definitely take him, but for now, I think Palm Beach will be fun.

I packed light purposely so I could do some shopping. I don't really have the clothes for the humidity in Georgia. The heat is _very_ different in Mojave. So I thought it would be fun to shop and spoil him a little. I made an appointment with a tailor I know and hopefully Len will let me buy him a suit or two. I have my speech all ready when he balks -- and I know he'll balk, or insist on paying for them. I don't think he quite understands how expensive these suits will be. I can almost picture his eyebrow going up and the tirade that will follow. In fact I'm counting on it.

I heard back from Philip about my medication regimen. Of course his first answer was absolutely not. That every medication was needed in conjunction with the others for me to finish healing. But he knew that I was going to do what I wanted regardless of his opinion, so he compromised and adjusted the dosages _some_ which -- Dammit, that really doesn't help me at all. Not right now when it matters. I've studied them enough and certainly know what they do and are for so I'm just gonna keep doing it my way. He probably knows I will anyway, judging from a second comm he sent me later, where he made me promise to at least keep taking the immunosuppressors. Fuck. I'm not an idiot. I know I can't stop that. There is no fucking way I want what Len developed to be rejected before the genetic bonding is complete.

As for yesterday at my parents' -- I don't think I've ever seen Len turn as many shades of red as when my grandmother got her hands on him. When she yelled across the patio, asking if I was going to take Len to that sex toy shop that I love so much in Miami -- I swear to god I thought he was going to pass out. He turned red and then practically blue, forgetting to breathe. I had to get up and hand him a drink, pat his back and remind him to breathe while giving her a look. Of course inside, I was laughing. And when I told her I'd ordered ahead for our trip, Len nearly choked and then excused himself to the restroom. I did chew her out slightly during the few minutes he was gone. She then grabbed my hand and proclaimed that she loved him and that I'd better marry him immediately before he came to his senses and dumped me. Of course, she timed that part perfectly. Len was just coming out when she said the 'marry him' part, which sent him scurrying right back inside.

I was right, though. Once she was done toying with him, they got on well. Even my father was amused at their antics and he's not a man who laughs and smiles much. It was nice to see. Overall, it was a great day with my parents. I couldn't be happier with how it turned out. I felt so much better, too, after the acupuncture session. We ended up staying for dinner at my parents' since the day went so well, and watched a movie after. I had a chance to talk to my mom about keeping the press off Len and how uncomfortable all of that makes him. She promised to make sure they know he's hands off. It won't stop them from commenting about us and taking pictures, but at least they won't be bombarding him with interview requests.

Len was quiet when we got back to the hotel close to 2300. I'm pretty sure he got a comm from Jim on the way back to the hotel, but he wouldn't admit it. He quickly changed the subject when I brought it up, and I didn't push it. We talked about my parents and grandmother, and I'm relieved that he really seems to like them and was even calling my mother Willa by the end of dinner. He went off to swim laps again, more proof that he was wound up by whatever comm he got -- But I know it was Jim. No one else gets him that way. I soaked in the hot tub and since it was pretty late, I went to bed. I don't even know what time he came back, but it's 0700 and he's still sound asleep.

There's something different about him this shore leave. I can't quite figure it out -- Well, I guess what it comes down to is that he seems a bit more comfortable in our relationship, if that makes sense. Or maybe with himself. I'm sure it's a combination of the therapy he's been doing, and I want to believe that I have something to do with it too. He's more confident. Much more aggressive sexually. It's not like he was ever a prude, because it's certainly true that he does have a filthy mouth. It's just the little things I've noticed. Like not getting into bed in his boxer briefs anymore. He strips completely now and doesn't put the briefs back on before we sleep anymore, either. Before, if he was naked when he woke up, he'd slide his briefs on before walking to the bathroom, and always put them on right out of the shower, before he shaved.

I hope he's just that much more comfortable with me -- with us. That thought makes me incredibly happy. It certainly allays the lingering fears that he's going to tire of me and move on. It also makes me think about making things permanent. That thought doesn't scare me like it always has. I'm just not sure he's ready for that, or, to be honest, if I am either. He's just begun to deal with his past, so I know I have to be patient. Len has always flinched in the past when I've casually mentioned making things 'permanent down the road'. Patience is still, and probably never will be something I'm good at. I take what I want. I have with him, from the beginning, maybe even selfishly. It's probably time to show him that I can wait, just like he did for me. I'm happy with how things are. We've been together almost two years now. I'm still not sure whether to count from when we had our first date that September or when we started writing a little over two years ago. Heck, it's not like I didn't notice him when he was still my doctor on earth before the Enterprise left. Frankly, I was surprised when he started writing me and expressed his interest in me. For one, I didn't think he swung that way since he'd been married. Sure, like I told Len, at one time I might have believed the rumors about him and Jim. But considering how much womanizing Jim did -- and I never saw Jim with a guy other than Len -- I pushed those thoughts away for the most part. Plus, it's not like I kept tabs on Len. My interest in him at the time was only making sure he wasn't a detrimental part of Jim's life. When I found it was the opposite, he mostly fell off my radar. I honestly thought he had been with women at the Academy -- It was a bit shocking when he admitted to me in those early letters that he hadn't been with anyone since his divorce.

God, that reminds me of our second shore leave together. When we finally got our heads out of our asses halfway through and stopped talking and taking it slow, and I got my hands on him. Jesus. It was like no one had ever touched that man before or given him pleasure. I know I've been a selfish lover in the past. Not that my partners didn't enjoy it, but there was something amazing in being able to give him so much pleasure. I will never forget how much he shivered after I jerked him off the first time. Or the look on his face when I deep throated him for the first time. I spent days simply making him come at every opportunity even though I couldn't come myself. And I truly didn't care.

I thought it would change once I could. In some ways it did. I certainly fucked him every chance I got on Milika. Sure, I still jerked him off and sucked him off, but I didn't let him fuck me and he never asked. But after he left, and after we talked more and shared fantasies -- I honestly couldn't wait to have him inside me. As I told him, in the past, except for when I was very young, I have _always_ topped. Never really got off on bottoming much. And since I was never with anyone long enough or who mattered enough once I was older, it was a moot point. I got what I wanted from the people I was with. If they didn't want to bottom, I would find someone who would.

It's weird, in some ways. I have never been this close to being an equal in a relationship, if that makes sense. Not that he thinks we are, with our backgrounds and me being a 'celebrated Admiral,' as he puts it -- But I mean as partners, I guess. I know I have a long way to go. I still catch myself sometimes making unilateral decisions without asking him. I know he says he doesn't mind with most things, but Dr. Elliott has told me time and time again that I have to stop and think of my partner when deciding important things. And since things that are important to me may not be important to him or vice versa, I'm really trying to make sure I have his input on even the most trivial matters. It's not easy though, and I know I'm never really going to change completely, but I don't ever want him to feel like he doesn't have as much say in our relationship, in our life, as I do. I have to admit, feeling like that about someone -- wanting to give them what they need -- it's more satisfying than I could ever have imagined.

Guess I got a bit introspective there. I see that Len is starting to rouse a bit. And since we need to get going, I'm going to go wake him up by sucking his cock and then fucking him. I don't care if I don't feel well. Mind over body. It should be a beautiful day in Palm Beach and I can't wait.

  



	26. A Dismal Thing To Do (Part 25 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The correspondence and journals of Chris and Len. A party, a fight, and a decidedly naughty interlude at a tailor shop. Not necessarily in that order.

_**Trek Fic: A Dismal Thing To Do (Pike/McCoy, NC-17)**_  
 **Title:** A Dismal Thing To Do (Part 25 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** Around 8000  
 **Summary:** The correspondence and journals of Chris and Len. A party, a fight, and a decidedly naughty interlude at a tailor shop. Not necessarily in that order.  
 **A/N:** From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) : Psst! Have you noticed how we're coaxing Jude out of hiding? She's like answering comments and being social and stuff! Keep up the good work, bbs! *high fives you all* From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/): Ummmm *needs to find a much bigger potted plant and a new corner* *sneaks away*

  


  
**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**

_Friday 2260.173_

Huh, this journaling business is kind of addictive, once you get going. I can see now why Jim does it all the time. Of course I still think he's in love with the sound of his own voice.

We're back at the hotel now, and Chris is taking a nap before we get ready for his parents' anniversary party later tonight. We spent the morning shopping in Palm Beach. Well, the morning actually started before that, when Chris woke me up with his mouth on my dick. I was half-asleep for most of it, and damn if that didn't make it even hotter, being on the edge between sleep and waking while he sucked me off. I couldn't tell if I was dreaming at first. I'm sure that because of that, my reactions were less inhibited than usual. It's probably good that it's sort of hazy in my memory or I'd be embarrassed about it.

Afterward, though, Chris was definitely worn out. He was getting the lube and acting like he was planning to fuck me, but he was out of breath, and a little dizzy too, judging from the way he was moving. I made him sit down, which I could tell he resented. I tried to go down on him, but he was having none of it. He said he was going to fuck me. And he was using that goddamned stubborn voice that says he's made up his mind and doesn't want to hear any backtalk. His captain's voice. I decided to call his bluff. I got on the bed, ass in the air, looked at him over my shoulder and said fine, go for it, since he was just fine and dandy. He scowled and cursed and said never mind, now that the mood had been ruined. He was in a snit, that's for sure, but it was worth it because I think he might've passed out if he'd tried anything strenuous at that moment. I got up and showered and by the time I got out, he seemed to be feeling better physically, and his mood seemed a bit better too. He kissed me and apologized for being an asshole.

I think his pride was still a bit wounded, though, because he was definitely in a bossy mood. He picked out my clothes for the day - not that I minded, since his fashion sense is better than mine, and I don't really care what I wear as long as it's appropriate for the climate. Then he announced that we'd be going to his tailor and that he was going to get me some custom-made suits and he didn't want to hear a word of protest. It would have been obnoxious except that there was just a hint of insecurity underneath. So I just smiled and said that just for this shore leave, if he wanted to spoil me rotten I wouldn't object. That seemed to make him feel better, and he was in good spirits heading to Palm Beach.

We had a late breakfast once we got there, at a cafe practically on the beach, overlooking the ocean. We got an outside patio table, and I'm not sure I want to know how Chris managed that, since the place was packed, but I'd promised no complaints about him spoiling me, so I didn't say anything. The view was beautiful, that's for damn sure. He ordered for both of us, to my amusement. We had a European-style breakfast, a big plate of fruit, cheese, croissants and mini-baguettes that we shared. Plus plenty of fresh coffee with cream and sugar. Everything real, nothing replicated, of course. Chris warned me again about the press likely to be at the party. I'm not looking forward to it, but I'll cope.

After breakfast, we had some time to kill before the appointment he'd made with the tailor, so we just strolled through the downtown shopping district, hand in hand. We got a few appreciative looks, not sure if it was because people recognized Chris or just because he's so damn gorgeous, but no one approached us. Mostly, we just blended into the crowd, which was fine by me. With Chris's input, I picked out a gift for his parents' anniversary, a hand-made blown-glass vase. I got Grandma Kathleen a blown-glass rose, which I think she'll like. For Annie, as a thank-you for all she did for the Georgia place, I got a solid glass half-globe, the kind of thing they used to call a paperweight, back when there were actual papers to be weighted down, I guess. Anyway, it's got a real desert lily set in it. It's a flower native to the Mojave desert, and Chris says it's Annie's favorite flower. It's good to have people in my life to get things for. I've missed that.

Then, after that, we headed off to Chris's tailor. I hadn't realized quite what I was getting myself in for. It was an upscale private shop, and the tailor, Signore Enzo (and yes, that's really what he goes by), closed up as soon as we got there, so he could devote his full attention to us, he said. We went to a back room that had a platform in the middle with full-length mirrors set up in a semi-circle surrounding it. Signore Enzo had me get up on the platform and strip down to my skivvies, and that was embarrassing as hell. Then it got worse, as he and Chris started discussing me as if I wasn't standing right there. They were talking about what fabrics and styles would suit me best, and I think I was turning redder and redder every second. Finally they finished their discussion, Signore Enzo took about a million different measurements, and then Chris told him to go take a nice long lunch break. He just gave Chris a knowing look and said that he'd be sure to take his time. I swear I thought my head was going to explode.

As soon as he locked the door behind him, I turned to Chris and gave him a piece of my mind. I was really working myself up into a good rant when I got suspicious. I checked my ring, and sure enough, it was purple again. God damn it, what's the point of getting up a good head of steam and tearing into someone if they're just going to sit there and _enjoy_ it? That kinda took the wind out of my sails, and so while I was just standing there with my arms crossed, fuming silently at Chris, he smiled and told me in that command-steel voice to take off my briefs. I sputtered, but damn it, there's no arguing with him in that mood, so I did what he said. I was already getting hard, which of course did not escape his notice. He didn't gloat, though, for which I was unspeakably grateful. He pulled a packet of lube out of his pocket, tossed it to me, and told me to face the mirrors and touch myself, while he sat in his armchair behind me and watched. His chair was set at just the perfect angle so that I could see him clearly in the mirrors, as well as seeing myself from every possible angle. Good lord, it was embarrassing and incredibly hot at the same time.

He sat there, cool and composed, and of course, completely dressed, while I was up there on the platform, totally naked, touching myself at his direction. He told me when to start, when to stop, when to speed up or slow down. He had me play with my nipples, my balls, and suck on my fingers while he watched. I don't think I've ever been so flustered and so aroused at the same time. Good god, the things that man does to me. I could see he was incredibly hard, but he didn't so much as touch himself or even glance down at his own erection. He just focused on me, on making me give myself pleasure. Finally, after what seemed like hours, he let me come. For the grand finale, he had me shoot into my hand and then lick it all up while we both watched in the mirror. God, the groan he let out when I was lapping up my own semen from my palm.

Afterwards, I felt almost lightheaded. I can't even really describe it. I'm sure it was due to a massive rush of endorphins, but I've never felt anything like it. I felt like I was floating on air, like I could do anything at that moment. God damn, I just had a thought - I wonder if that's how Jim feels when he faces down danger and wins? I'd just about bet my medical license on it. Hell, I can understand a bit better now why he's constantly throwing himself into harm's way. It's an incredible feeling, seductive and powerful and I'd be willing to bet it's pretty damn addictive. He needs to find a way to feel like that without actually putting his life in danger. I'll have to think on that. Anyway, enough about Jim.

My legs were a bit wobbly after I came, so Chris had me straddle his lap where he was sitting in the armchair and we kissed and he stroked me all over, gently petting and touching me. Fuck, it was unbelievable - so tender and intimate. He said he loved me and he was proud of me for indulging him like that even though he knew it wasn't easy for me. I offered to get him off but he said no, he wanted to save it for later. To tell the truth, I was getting nervous about Signore Enzo showing up at any moment, so I didn't argue with him. I got back into my boxer-briefs, found the bathroom and washed up a bit. Luckily the air circ system in the shop was good, because by the time I got out of the bathroom it didn't even smell like sex anymore. Thank god. That would have been too humiliating for words. Anyway, Chris said that Signore Enzo had all the information he needed, and that we could go whenever we wanted. So I got dressed and we left. The door locked automatically behind us. I'm sure Signore Enzo knows what we were up to, which I don't want to think about too hard, but we didn't leave any sign of it and at least I didn't have to face him again afterwards. I don't think I'll ever be able to see him again without turning beet red. Chris is having the suits delivered to our place in San Francisco, since they'll probably take several weeks to be made. I don't even want to know how much it's going to cost. Probably better that I don't ask.

After that, we did a bit more shopping, had to evade a photographer, and had lunch at a fantastic Cuban restaurant. Then we were both a bit tired, so we headed back to the hotel and now, like I said, Chris is taking a nap. Maybe I'll lie down and join him for a bit. I'm sure I'll need all my wits about me for dealing with the crowds at the party this evening.

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike**

_Saturday 2260.174_

It's 0200 and Len just slipped out of the room. I woke up when the door slid shut. I was disoriented for a minute and it took me back to another place and time. When being in a hotel room would mean that I'd just picked someone up for the night and either they or I would be gone by morning.

I started to panic a bit, considering -- Well, Len and I had quite a fight when we got back to the hotel after the party. Luckily, my panic didn't last long because he left a PADD on the nightstand with a note that he couldn't sleep and went to swim laps.

I hope it's just nerves about going home tomorrow and not because he's still upset from the fight. I thought everything was okay. I suppose I should back up.

The whole thing was my fault. I was in a mood from the time I woke up. My plans this morning didn't go very well. I did suck Len off, but when I was done with that -- Well, since I was finally honest to him earlier -- I felt like shit. I was dizzy and having trouble catching my breath. And when Len made me sit down and implied he was going to go down on me instead -- Well, I didn't take that very well. So it made me even more determined to fuck him. Pissed, he got up on all fours and egged me on. I may have yelled and told him he ruined the mood and he muttered under his breath and went to take a shower.

By the time he came out, I'd had some juice and felt a little better. I apologized, but I know -- Well, I think I pretty much spent the entire day ordering him around. And shit if he didn't humor me. I may have taken advantage of that just a bit. I did let him drive us there, only because I still didn't feel that great. We had breakfast overlooking the water and then walked around to kill time before the appointment. I have to say, it was incredible walking through town with Len, hand in hand. I've never really done that before with anyone on Earth in public like that, not even my wife. That was another issue we had. She didn't like the press following our every move. In San Francisco, other than the wedding, Len and I have never been out in public together. This is all new to me. But I have to admit, I liked it.

I spent so many of my younger years avoiding being seen with _anyone_ in public, and going to great lengths to ensure my privacy. Because anyone I was seen with became gossip fodder, and it's kind of hard when you've had _one_ date with someone and the next day it's splashed across the gossipnet, 'Playboy Pike has new flavor of the month.' Or even worse, when there are quotes from 'close friends' that say it's serious and you've been seeing the person in secret for six months. According to the tabloids, I once had a year-long relationship with someone I'd never even met. You tend to not get a second date with anyone who isn't seeking that kind of attention in the first place. While it luckily weeds those types out, no one in their right mind would put up with that kind of intense scrutiny.

I guess that might be part of my mood. I'm worried about Len. And how he will react to the press tonight. And while I know they will leave him alone, it's not going to stop the headlines and the holos splashed across newsnets all over the universe. I don't think he realizes sometimes what he's signed on for with me. And I dread the day when I can't keep the press off him like I can at a private invite-only party. Or the day he finds out about my pretty colorful past. We may need to have _that_ discussion soon.

But back to Palm Beach. I took him to a tailor I've used since I can remember. My family has used them for generations. Signore Enzo's family is from the house of Armani from hundreds of years ago in Italy. He still makes suits the old fashioned way, and there is nothing better. The fabrics aren't replicated; they aren't sewn automatically by a robo-machine. Signore Enzo still uses a good old-fashioned sewing machine. There is something to be said for that kind of devotion to your craft. To me, the suits I get from him are well worth every credit spent.

I made this appointment with Enzo months ago. I never expected it to go quite like it did, but when Len admitted to me his fantasy about public sex -- I just couldn't resist. It was amusing, watching his little tirade after I ordered Enzo to leave, and how quickly he stopped when he realized I was getting off on it. As much as I love the crystals and our matching rings, I would have had much more fun if he hadn't figured it out so soon. Frankly, I'm surprised he went along with it, but God, I'm glad he did. I wish I had thought to tape it, but it's something I will never forget. Watching him, ordering him to do whatever I told him. I kept waiting for him to stop it, but he didn't. It certainly was the hottest thing I've ever seen.

We shopped a bit more after. I picked up some clothes better suited for Georgia. He didn't even flinch when I told him to grab a few things. I guess he meant it when he said he was going to let me spoil him this trip. He might be sorry for giving me carte blanche for our shore leave. There was one 'damn vulture' as Len calls them across the street when we came out, several bags in our arms. I can imagine the headlines tomorrow, but I'm hoping the party tonight will squelch them some. Luckily, he was on foot so we managed to lose him and I took Len to this little Cuban place that I love for lunch. They make the best ropa vieja on the planet.

Len could tell I was tired after that, so he talked me into coming back to Boca, and I slept until shortly before it was time to get ready for the anniversary party. I'm glad my parents didn't make it black tie. Not that I wouldn't want to see Len in a tuxedo, but he was nervous enough. It was still formal, and he wore that same suit as he did to the wedding last week. I had a hard time keeping my hands off him all night. I made sure I had my hand on him most of the time, but I was more mindful, not wanting to give the reporters more fodder than they'd already have.

It was a beautiful evening, though. My mother was stunning -- most women would kill to look as good as she still does at close to eighty. The gold beaded dress she wore -- My father couldn't take his eyes off of her. I have to admit, I got kind of teary when he spoke of his love or her. Fifty-five years together and they are just as much in love as when they were young. I never thought I'd have a chance at anything like they do -- But now, I feel like that's finally possible for me.

Of course, not if I keep doing idiotic things. Like what I did this week about my medication. To make a long story short, Philip commed Len to let him know -- Well, that I was probably _not_ following doctors orders. I don't know when he got the comm, but when we got back to the hotel, he disappeared into the bathroom while I pulled off my tie and slipped out of my shoes.

I should have known something was wrong when I saw the look on his face when he came out of the bathroom. I honestly thought he was just overwhelmed from the party. There were a lot of people to meet. Fifty or so relatives in all, including a lot of my relations from Australia. Another hundred or so family friends and dignitaries. I could see Len eyeing the reporters and wincing at the flashes all night. Hell, it was a lot to take in. God bless my grandmother though, and Annie too. They kept the worst of the family gossips from Len. It's amazing how fast my grandmother can get across the room at her age. I tried not to leave Len alone, but it was nearly impossible, with so much family to talk to. In fact, I should have taken some of them being here into account when we made our plans. I promised my great-uncle and his wife that we'd meet them for a late breakfast in the morning. It's the least I can do since he's running the family winery.

Yes, I'm avoiding talking about the fight. Or more to the point, my complete and utter stupidity. I swear it was like being in a holomovie where you watch the character and you can't believe how stupid they are, except it was me in the starring role. And the words that were coming out of my mouth? Fuck. Did I mention I am an idiot?

Len played it cool. He mentioned that Philip had sent him a comm, wondering how I was doing. How the sleeping meds were interacting with the others, and whether they were still bothering my stomach. I brushed Len off, telling him that I had sent Philip a comm about my medications, and that Philip was just being a worrywart as usual.

It wasn't a lie, it was evasion. I'm good at it. Apparently not with Len though, because then the yelling started. Boy he can _really_ fly off the handle, and I was glad the rooms were soundproof or security probably would have been called, and wouldn't _those_ headlines have been fun. Right.

When he was in the bathroom, he had checked the medicine kit Philip had sent with me. He obviously saw that there was a heck of a lot more medication left in a couple of the vials than there should have been. When he told me as much, I may have said something to the effect that it was my body and I'm intelligent enough to know what I can do, and it was my decision. Boy, was that the wrong thing to say to him. I swear his eyes BULGED out of his head. I can't even remember half the things that came out of his mouth because I was busy yelling too. At one point I told him he had no right to tell me what to do, and who did he think he was? The look on his face was like I slapped him. Honestly, the moment I'd said it I wanted to take it right back. But after he recovered, he yelled back that he was first and foremost a doctor and that he was taking over my medical care while we were on shore leave since I was a goddamn idiot. It got worse from there.

It wasn't pretty. I'm not proud of it. We both said some things we shouldn't have in the heat of the moment. And then because he had the audacity to tell me that I could hardly _walk_ right now, I grabbed him and pushed him down on the table and showed him not only could I walk _just fine_ , I could also fuck him senseless.

Fuck, it was hot. It was totally wrong, but he's strong enough that he could have kicked my ass if he wanted to. I shoved him over and cupped him, unzipping his pants and pulling them and his briefs down. I was already so hard from the fighting in the first place. I unzipped my pants, not even bothering to unbutton, and pulled my cock out. I remember telling him I was going to show him how _fine_ I was. I was so fired up. I reached around and grabbed him and he was completely hard. He was just as turned on as I was, panting. I leaned over next to his ear, biting it, and asked him if he wanted it, and then bit the side of his neck hard, leaving a mark. I remember him crying out _Jesus, Chris_. God, he was desperate for it, and as I sucked on his neck I jerked my hips into him and asked him again if he wanted it. He finally answered, gasping, _Goddamnit, Chris. Yes._

I didn't prep him as much as I should have, just grabbed the lube from the table, slicked myself up, and shoved my way in. I pushed him down flat on the table, holding him down with one arm, my other on his hip as I pounded into him. The sounds we were both making, the slapping sound as I fucked him. I know I said some pretty filthy things to him. It was -- fuck. I was completely out of it, and I don't even remember half of it. I don't know how I found the energy or how I stayed standing. I suppose it was adrenaline from the fight. I remember letting go of his hip, pulling him up by the collar of the suit and grabbing his cock and roughly jerking him off. He came fast and hard, and then I followed, both of us falling forward to the table, me panting, gulping air, lying on his back. As I caught my breath, I started to panic. What the hell had I just done? Was it too much? Did I hurt him? But a second later, Len laced his fingers through mine and squeezed, and I knew it was all right.

Once I caught my breath enough to stand, I slid out, rubbing his back. I took a few steps backwards and fell on the bed when the back of my knees hit it. So I lay there, in my fancy suit, my soft dick sticking out of my pants -- My mind was racing and then I heard rustling and Len was obviously pulling his pants up and then he disappeared into the bathroom. I'll admit, I was scared shitless I'd gone too far. Or said something unforgivable. I heard the shower start and part of me wanted to go and join him, but I honestly didn't know if he'd want me in there. So I got undressed, cleaned myself up a bit and crawled into bed.

I was an utter and complete fool. I had no idea what I was going to say to him when he came out. _If_ he was willing to even talk when he came out. I wouldn't have been surprised if he walked out on me, with some of the things I'd said. I guess we both said things. Ten minutes later, he came out, and I closed my eyes and tried to pretend I was sleeping. I heard him come over to the bed and set something on the nightstand next to me. He then told me he knew I wasn't asleep and to sit up. When I did, I looked over to see my med kit. He was loading hyposprays. I opened my mouth to protest and he gave me the look. Fuck, he has an intimidating look. I guess he meant what he said earlier about taking over my medical care. I sighed and lifted my chin up, giving him access to my neck. He quickly went through the series of injections before packing them up.

The worst part? He didn't say a thing after that. Nothing. He just took my med kit back to the bathroom, ordered the lights off, and crawled into bed with me. Of course, his silence spoke volumes. I knew he was disappointed in me. As much as I still wanted to argue with him about what I did, I knew it would be pointless.

Finally, he turned on his side and wrapped his arm across my stomach and I wanted to just weep. I think he realized with my shuddering breath -- Well, I was quickly losing control. He tightened his grip around me. I told him I was sorry. He said the same, and then I asked him if I hurt him, and thank god he answered no. I then got a mini-lecture about taking care of myself. His voice was soft, but I knew he meant business. He told me that I was going to be doing a heck of a lot of resting in Georgia. I started to open my mouth to protest, but he put his finger on my lips.

For the first time yesterday, I did something smart. I shut up. I fell asleep pretty quickly after that.

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**

_Saturday 2260.174_

Jesus Christ, I'm not even sure what just happened or how I feel about it. We went to his parents' anniversary party. It was fine. I'll write more about that another time, but I can't deal with it right now.

On the way back to the hotel after the party, I got a comm from Philip warning me that Chris had been asking him which of his meds he could safely cut out. The answer, of course, is none of them, but Philip had a feeling Chris hadn't been complying with his drug regimen. I checked the bathroom when we got back to our room, and of course Philip was right.

I asked Chris about it, and he tried to give me some bullshit about Philip being a worrywart, and said that he was fine. But I noticed he hadn't actually answered my question. God damn, he's a slippery one when he wants to be. So I pushed him harder, and then he said that it was his decision and he was smart enough to know what medications he could do without for a short period.

Well, that set me off. I yelled, he yelled back. He said he already had a mother and he didn't need another one, that I was his lover not his caretaker. I told him I was also a doctor and that as smart as he was, he could be a damn fool when it came to his own well-being. He told me he'd done it for us, because he wanted to be able to keep up with me this shore leave. I told him I sure as hell didn't ask him to destroy his own health for my sake, and he said, "Oh, so you'd be fine then, if I just slept for the next two weeks straight and we didn't have sex once? Maybe you'd even prefer it? Are you getting sick of your old, broken-down lover already?"

God damn it. How could I answer that? I was damned either way. So I told him to stop twisting me up with words, and said that right now, he was so weak he could barely stand. I knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as it was out of my mouth, and it wasn't even true. With the adrenaline from the fight, not only was he doing just fine standing up, he probably could've run a mile as well. Then I noticed that he was completely hard, and he had that look in his eye that says he's about to bend me over the nearest surface and fuck me into oblivion. I looked at my ring and it was purple and red swirled together. Never seen it that way before. God, the passion between us, it just flares up, and it's like neither of us can resist it. As soon as I noticed how aroused he was, I wanted him so badly. I was aching for him, even though I was still so pissed at him that I wanted to shake him.

He knew I wanted it, too. Hell, he made me tell him so. He pushed me down, bent me over the table, and fucked me. That's the only word there is for it. It wasn't making love, that's for sure. Dear god, we were both so completely desperate for it, for each other. He was pounding into me, harder than he ever has before. The things he was saying, right in my ear, were so goddamned hot and dirty -- "I know you love it like this, Len. You love to bend over and take my cock just like this. I could make you beg me for it, couldn't I? How's this? Hard enough? Am I strong enough for you? Fuck, you're like a bitch in heat for me. You want me to fuck you raw, don't you? You want me to break you in, keep going until your ass is swollen and bleeding. I know you want it."

He went on and on like that. I could hear these helpless little whimpering noises that I was making, and I know I've never sounded like that before with anyone. I was pushing back against him, wanting him harder, deeper, even though it hurt like hell, or maybe _because_ it hurt like hell. Fuck, I don't know. He jerked me off roughly and I practically came apart, then he was coming into me and collapsing over my back as the adrenaline rush wore off.

For a few moments, it was like we were both frozen, not knowing what the hell to say or do next. But I -- well, I guess I just needed to connect to him, to know we were okay, so I reached out and squeezed his hand. Then he pulled out, rubbed my back a little, and collapsed backward onto the bed. I didn't trust myself to even look at him right then. I didn't know what might come out of my mouth, whether I'd tell him that he wasn't old and broken down and of course I still wanted him, or tear him a new one for being so cavalier with his health. And I didn't know what the hell to say about what we'd just done, the fight and the sex. So I just went into the bathroom, took a shower, and tried to calm down a bit.

I said a lot of idiotic things during that fight, but there's one thing that I absolutely meant. From now on, I'm going to make damn sure that he's taking his meds. Damn it, I should have seen this coming, should have been more vigilant before this. Shit, with the way he was fucking around with his dosages he could have seriously screwed up his long-term rehab prognosis. Whether he wants to admit it or not, he needs a goddamn keeper, and whether he likes it or not, I'm appointing myself, at least when I'm around to do it. And when I'm not, I'm going to keep in close contact with Philip so I know that someone's keeping an eye on him.

When I got out of the bathroom, he was doing a spectacularly bad job of pretending to be asleep. I had his meds with me. I told him to sit up and I gave him all his meds via hypospray. I still didn't know what on earth to say. He actually opened his mouth and was about to argue with me at one point. After all that, he was _still_ going to argue. Stubborn bastard. He's met his match in that department, though, because I gave him one look and he reconsidered. Smart man.

Anyway, then I turned off the lights and got in bed. The way he was breathing, I could tell he was trying not to break down. So I reached over and pulled him to me. I think I ranted at him about taking better care of himself, and stopped him when he tried to say something back. He fell asleep almost immediately. I couldn't sleep, though. I'm all tangled up in knots.

Partly about what happened - I mean, fuck, it was hot but it was all kinds of wrong as well. But also about going back to Georgia tomorrow to face those ghosts, and about being at his parents' anniversary party, seeing a couple who's been together 55 years and is obviously still completely in love. Do I have a shot at that with Chris? God, I hope so, but I don't know. Apart from everything else, the life expectancy of a starship captain... well, let's just say Chris has already exceeded it. By a significant margin. Maybe he can continue to beat the odds. But damn it, not if he doesn't take better care of himself. I don't know how to impress upon him how goddamn important he is to me, how it hurts _me_ when he puts himself at risk. I know he read Jim the riot act about that exact same thing, so why can't he take his own advice? Jesus Christ, what is it with me and my penchant for the noble, self-sacrificing jackasses of the world?

I couldn't sleep, all of that rolling around in my mind. I went downstairs to swim some laps, leaving Chris a note. Now I'm here sitting in the hotel bar again. At least since it's Friday night -- Saturday morning, now, I suppose -- they're staying open later, and not trying to kick me out of here. There's quite a few people here; I guess it's a popular hangout for the well-heeled. Shit, I just noticed on the newsnet screen behind the bar, they're showing some holos from the party earlier tonight, and the crawl is about me and Chris. "Narada hero and notorious playboy Pike plays sugar daddy to his latest conquest." Oh good lord. Like I'm some empty-headed bimbo who's just hanging on his arm for the notoriety or something. At least they didn't mention my name. Oh, wonderful. Now the crawl says "Noted surgeon Leonard McCoy falls for the dashing older man; can they make it work? Full story after the break." Why the hell is everyone so caught up in the age difference? Even Chris seems to worry about it all the time. I just love him. I don't give a good goddamn how old he is. In fact, given our family genetic histories, it's likely that he'll outlive me, if he makes a basic effort to keep himself healthy. Like, say, taking his goddamned medicines.

All right. Now I'm going in circles. I need sleep. Hell, I need Chris. I need to be near him. So why am I acting like a goddamned moron and sitting down here when I could be in his arms? And why am I asking goddamned rhetorical questions to my goddamned journal? Good god, Leonard, get a grip.

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**

_Saturday 2260.174_

Oh lord, I'm sore. I think I've swum enough laps to make it to the moon and back, just during these last few days. It's helped clear my head, though.

When I got back to the room last night, Chris was up. Looked like he was doing his own journal entry. Good god, the way he looked at me when I came in, it was sheer relief on his face. It's like he half-expected that I'd left for good. I don't know what else I can say or do to convince him that I'm in this for the long haul, and that it's going to take a hell of a lot to get rid of me. I guess it'll just take time for him to really believe it.

Anyway, I got undressed, got back into bed, while he just watched me, like if he looked away or even blinked I might disappear. I pulled him into my arms and told him I loved him. Then -- well, I won't go into detail, because it's goddamn embarrassing to think about, much less put down in black and white, but we talked, and we touched, and we reassured each other that we're both all right, and that we're all right as a couple, if that makes sense.

I guess I should go back, talk a little bit about the anniversary party. It was kind of overwhelming, all those people, all the reporters there taking holophotos every time you turned around. I met at least a hundred people, and I don't think I remember more than a handful of names. Chris stayed with me most of the night, but he kept getting pulled away by people he hadn't seen in years. Grandma Kathleen and Annie kept an eye out for me, though, and one or the other of them would swoop in if I was left alone too long or if a reporter was about to corner me. I got to dance with both of them, and good lord, Grandma Kathleen cuts quite a rug. I spent a bit of time talking with Chris's parents, but of course, they were the guests of honor so they were in high demand. I also escaped a couple times, walked around the grounds to clear my head and get some fresh air. I accidentally interrupted one tryst out in the garden, and damn, was that embarrassing all around. I've got no idea who the people were, but I hope I never see them again. Of course, they seemed drunk enough that they probably wouldn't remember anyway.

The party itself was unbelievable - the decorations, the food, the drink, everything was top-notch. Obviously no expense had been spared. I have to admit that much luxury makes me uneasy. I had a simple upbringing, and while I know there's no one in the Federation who lives in abject poverty unless they choose to, ostentatious displays of wealth still make me uncomfortable. I know for a fact that the osteoregenerator they're using in the Haight-Ashbury Federation Medical Clinic is at least ten years old, and being treated with it hurts like hell, unlike the newer models. I've done my volunteer hours in that clinic, I've set the bones of children with it and watched them crying. Probably the amount of credits it cost to throw that party could completely outfit the clinic with state-of-the-art equipment. But I know it's pointless to think that way. There's always going to be need, and I know Chris's family gives generously.

This morning, we had breakfast with Chris's great-aunt and -uncle, the ones who run the winery in Australia. To tell the truth, I'd rather have spent the time alone with Chris. After what happened last night, I felt like we could use the solitude, some time just for ourselves. But of course he won't get to see them again until who knows when, so I didn't ask him to cancel. They're good people, easy to get along with, and because they run the winery, they know what it's like to depend on the land, on the cycle of the seasons, the way I did growing up. So we had a little more in common than I did with some of Chris's other relations.

We were almost late meeting them this morning, actually, because we overslept. We were both so goddamn exhausted from everything that happened last night. We had to rush to get to the restaurant, so we didn't have time to finish packing up and getting checked out of the hotel before breakfast, the way we'd planned. So Chris is finishing all that up while I'm sitting in an armchair in the lobby, writing this. I think that's him, though, with the bellhop and our bags.

Guess it's time to go home to Georgia. We'd planned to get there in the afternoon, but now it looks like it'll be late evening before we make it. I don't know if it makes it better or worse that the first time I go back, it'll be in the dark of night instead of by daylight. At least I'll have Chris by my side when I face it.

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike**

_Saturday 2260.174_

I'm starting to think that instead of operating on my back, they should have examined my brain to see if I have one. Well, at least the part of the brain that keeps you from continuously doing stupid things in relationships. They have to have mapped that area. Jesus. I'm starting to think with all the bumps I've had on my head throughout my Starfleet career, that I've obviously damaged it -- It's the only explanation I can think of.

Right now, all I can say is that I'm the luckiest asshole in the universe, because I don't deserve Leonard McCoy. Why he's still with me as I fuck up over and over again -- Well, fuck if I know why. Not that I mean to screw up, I just seem to do it anyway. Just fuck.

We're in Savannah right now. While I'd planned on making it all the way to Atlanta tonight, we got such a late start -- Long story short, when I came down with the bags and the bellhop to check us out, I got dizzy and off-balance heading for the desk. I would have fallen if not for a chair being right there. So I collapsed into it and was out of it for a minute or two. Scared Len to death. After he checked me over, he had the bellhop take our bags back up to the room. Luckily we didn't need to be out until 1600, so he gave me a sedative and made me sleep a few hours. We didn't end up leaving until it was time to check out. Then he made me eat something in the hotel restaurant before we took off. He insisted on driving. Told me to get more sleep and if I didn't he'd sedate me again. Boy is he pissed at me. Something about a chemical imbalance because I fucked with my medications and that I do need a goddamn caretaker and if he had to hire one himself to keep an eye on me on the Exeter he would if I was going to act like a five year old. I know there was more ranting, and I kept telling him I was sorry. He told me if I was really sorry that I'd start taking better care of myself. I guess I have to admit he has a point.

So we're staying here at a small hotel he picked out. Not my usual fare, but it's nice and clean. He's gone out to get food. Fuck, he's been bossy. I _feel_ like a five year old right now being punished. He told me when he left that I'd be eating and then he'd be sedating me for the night. Once again I was stupid enough to open my mouth to protest -- Big mistake. It was on to tirade number four I think, maybe five. Unsurprisingly, I'm not finding them as hot anymore.

He's absolutely right, though. Like I said before. I'm an idiot. A completely selfish idiot, and God help me, I'm going to do everything I can to take care of myself the rest of this trip -- To show him that I do get what it's doing to him when I don't. I don't want to see the face I woke up to earlier. The panic in his eyes. Fuck.

So I'm going to do what I'm told tonight. I swear to god if I automatically open my mouth to protest something he tells me when he gets back, I'll tape it shut myself. I want to feel good enough tomorrow morning when we get to the house -- Well, I know he's going to need me. I know he's scared. I only hope and pray that I can help him face all of those ghosts -- And start to help him make some good memories in our home.

We have ten days in Georgia. Ten days for me to get my head out of my ass and prove I'm worthy of his love.

Actually, I think there is a lot we need to prove to each other these next ten days. It's time for me to step up and do that.

  



	27. Had Got No Business To Be There (Part 26 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The correspondence and journals of Chris and Len. Chris and Len take the ~~midnight train~~ rented hover-convertible to Georgia.

_**Trek Fic: Had Got No Business To Be There (Pike/McCoy, NC-17)**_  
 **Title:** Had Got No Business To Be There (Part 26 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** Around 6600  
 **Summary:** The correspondence and journals of Chris and Len. Chris and Len take the ~~midnight train~~ rented hover-convertible to Georgia.  
 **A/N:** From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) : Now I want a place like the Georgia farm. /whine [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/): Hmm, only if it's never above 70 degrees and gives me a month of light snow. That can be arranged, right? :P

  


  
**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**

_Sunday 2260.175_

I'm back home. Lord, it's bizarre to write those words, to be back in this place. Even stranger to be here under these circumstances, sitting in what used to be my parents' bedroom and is now mine and Chris's. He's asleep. Luckily he fell asleep on his own, so I didn't have to sedate him. I would've, if I'd had to, but I don't like loading his system up with more drugs on top of everything he's already on, especially when his body is so out of whack already with the way he's been abusing it.

He collapsed yesterday morning in the hotel in Boca. Direct result of screwing with his meds, then pushing himself too hard physically and emotionally. I've got him stabilized as well as I can, given what I've got to work with, but I'm not going to be entirely sanguine until I've checked him out thoroughly at a fully-equipped medical facility. What I _should_ do, as a Starfleet officer, is report that Admiral Christopher Pike has been experiencing uncontrolled neurological symptoms that lead me to question his fitness for command. God _damn_ it. I hate being in this position. Not that there's a doubt in my mind what I'm actually going to do.

I've begged a few favors at St. Joseph's in Atlanta, where I did my residency. Thank god I still know some of the techs who work there. They're going to arrange it so I can get some time with the diagnostic equipment, off the record. I'll have to do all the scans and run all the bloodwork myself, but nothing will show on any official records that way. I'm sure that Chris's problems are just due to his idiocy with his meds, and I can get him stabilized and back to full health during our time here in Georgia. If not, though, I'm going to have to report him. He can't command a starship if he blacks out just walking across a room. I'd risk my career for him in a heartbeat -- in fact, that's exactly what I'm doing, since if it gets out that I've done this, my Starfleet career will be over and my medical license will be in jeopardy. If that happens, so be it. But what I won't do is risk the lives of the men and women on the Exeter by letting him resume his command if he's not back to full health. Hell, I know he wouldn't risk his crew either, so if he's not back at 100%, I'm sure he'll ground himself, much as it would kill him.

I've explained all this to him -- well, maybe more like ranted at him during one of my lectures yesterday. Not sure how much he really took it in, though, since he was pretty out of it. I'll go over it again tomorrow. We won't be going in to get the testing done for about a week -- that was the soonest they had unscheduled time on all the equipment I'm going to need. So for now, I'll just make sure he takes it easy. At least he seems to be fairly docile about following medical orders, for the moment.

One good effect this has had is that I haven't had any time to dwell on my bad memories of this place. Hell, I haven't spared a thought for Jim in a couple days either. And I really couldn't care less what the goddamn press is saying about me and Chris and our torrid May-December affair or whatever the hell they're calling it today.

Good lord. Just had a thought. If the press gets wind of Chris's medical condition, the shit is really going to hit the fan. I'll have to somehow get him into St. Joseph's without being seen. God damn it. Chris has more experience dealing with all of that than I do, maybe he'll have some ideas. I hope so, but come hell or high water he _is_ getting a full workup.

Despite all of this shit -- and good god, it has been a _lot_ of shit -- my commitment to him, to _us_ , hasn't been shaken one iota. I wonder if some of this crap, his recklessness with his health, exposing me to the press, and to all of his family at the party, what we did at his tailor's, even the fight and the fucking the other night - I wonder if in some way he's testing me, testing my resolve. Making me prove myself to him. Not that he'd admit it, or even necessarily realize he was doing it. That makes a lot of sense, actually - it fits right in with his psych profile.

Whatever tests he wants to throw at me, though, whatever hoops he wants to make me jump through, I'm in this thing. He knows what my dealbreaking buttons are, and if he really wanted to get rid of me, it wouldn't be that hard. All this other stuff that he's throwing at me, well, I can take it. Wish I didn't have to, but if wishes were fishes we'd walk on the sea, as my mama used to say. I feel closer to her than I have in a long time, actually, being here. There's plenty of good history here too, and I'm glad I'm getting the chance to realize that, or remember it.

I'm getting ahead of myself though. We ended up staying at a hotel in Savannah last night. It would've been too late to try to push all the way through and get here in one night. We both slept well, and we slept in relatively late, and I insisted that we sit down and have a good breakfast before we hit the road. Chris felt strong enough to drive after that, and despite some misgivings, I let him. The drive was peaceful. We talked quietly about this and that, or sometimes we were just silent, taking in the scenery. It was a good silence, though. Comfortable.

I got more and more tense as we got closer, though. Chris could tell, but he didn't say anything, just kept shooting worried glances at me, and touching me reassuringly, putting his hand on my leg. We'd talked about stopping in Atlanta before heading out here, but I was too wound up to have enjoyed it at all, so we decided to skip it. We got here around midday.

I don't know what I expected, exactly, but god damn, I didn't expect what I saw. It looked _exactly_ like I remember from my childhood. Down to the same kind of flowers in the windowboxes. Annie must've dug up some old holos and replicated the way everything looked in 'em. It was all I could do not to start crying. I almost expected my mama to step out onto the porch and tell me not to keep my visitor waiting outside in the heat, that she had iced tea ready for us inside.

Chris -- well, at first he looked so damn proud, he was practically fit to burst with it. My jaw was open and I couldn't say anything at all. After a minute, though, I think he realized that it was all just a little overwhelming for me. He took my hand, asked me if I was all right. I don't think I even answered him. He turned me until I was facing him, put his hands on either side of my face, made me look at him. He talked to me until I calmed down. I don't even know what he said. Just soothing nonsense, I guess.

After a while, I started feeling a bit more like myself. He asked if I needed to sit down, but I said I wanted to take the tour. I knew it was going to be hard, but I needed to face it, get it done. So I showed him all around. I know there were places where my tears were overflowing, but there were also places where I was smiling or laughing, explaining some silly quirk of the place, like the half-height closet under the stairs that used to be my favorite hide-out. Good lord, I remember playing "doctor" with Rebecca Howard in there when we were both far too young to understand the significance of our physical differences.

After all that, I think I must've looked a bit dazed again, because Chris sat me down in the kitchen, at the old pine table we always used to eat breakfast at, and he put together a quick lunch for us from the supplies Annie had left. It was almost surreal, eating there again, this time with Chris, with everything that's happened since I last sat at that table.

After lunch, well, Chris was looking ready to collapse, and I needed some time alone to deal with being back here. He said he didn't want to sleep in the master bed without me, so he lay down on the overstuffed sofa in the front room for a nap, and I took a ramble around the grounds. Some of it's pretty badly overgrown, but I can see the bones of how it all used to be, and it wouldn't take that much to get it back in good shape. For the first time in years, that actually seems like something I want to do.

When I got back, Chris was awake, poking around my daddy's old study. He'd found some holo-albums in there. We spent the rest of the afternoon looking through those, with me telling him stories from my past. Sometimes I just got quiet, looking at something that triggered a particularly strong memory, and Chris just let me alone when I needed that. Good god, I'm damn grateful that he was here when I came back here for the first time. I honestly think I might've turned tail and run if he hadn't been with me.

In the evening, after dinner, we vidcommed Annie, since we'd promised. By that time, I was mostly pretty collected, so I was able to sincerely thank her for everything she'd done at the place. She was so excited, asking me if I'd noticed this or that detail. I had to smile at her enthusiasm.

Afterward, Chris just looked at me with a question in his eyes, and I knew exactly what he was asking. I took his hand, led him up the creaky old stairs and into the master bedroom. This room, at least, looks a little different than it used to, which is a relief. New curtains, new sheets, and a red-and-white quilt of my grandmother's that I'm pretty sure I've never seen before, though it's got her embroidered signature in the corner. It's a wedding ring quilt. Wonder if Annie picked that one on purpose. Having met her, I'd bet she did. Don't think much gets by her. Wonder if Chris knows what that particular pattern is called, or what it signifies.

When we got to the room, Chris just stood there, waiting for me to take the lead. I took his face in my hands, and kissed him, slow and soft. It got deeper, but I kept it slow. I ran my fingers through his hair, again and again. I moved on to his jaw and neck, kissing him over and over and then unbuttoning his shirt. He just looked at me while I undressed him and then myself. We were both so solemn. It almost felt... well, the only word I can think of is sacred. That's how it felt to me, anyway. I led him over to the bed and laid him down on it. Then I covered him up with my body, leaning down over him. We kissed and touched for a long time; I don't even know how long. When I'd pushed us both as far as our endurance could take, I prepared him, put one of his legs over my shoulder, and slid into him, still holding his gaze. He had his hands on my arms, clutching at my biceps as I moved over him. I worked him slow and steady with my hand, and when we both came, it felt like letting go. Like falling into each other.

I rested my forehead against his, and just breathed him in for a while. Eventually I collapsed next to him, and he moved naturally into my arms, resting his head on my shoulder, and I covered us up with the blankets. We just lay like that, not talking and not _needing_ to talk. Finally his breathing evened out, and I could tell he was asleep. We'll have to wash the sheets tomorrow, and I'm sure we'll be a sticky mess when we get up, but it was worth it. It was perfect.

I'll get back in bed in just a second, but I wanted to get down all these impressions before I forgot them. Feels like something momentous happened today. I claimed my place as head of the McCoy clan, such as it is. And I claimed Chris as my mate. Whatever happens in the future, for this moment, in this place, he belongs to me. It feels right.

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike**

_Monday 2260.176_

It's early. Once again, I've woken up much earlier than usual. It's so quiet out here. Much quieter than my place in Mojave. Of course, if there weren't the farm animals there it would probably be the same. Len is still asleep. So I slipped out and took a shower, and I'm sitting here in the kitchen sipping decaf and reading news. I really tried not to look at what was said about Len and I, but it was kind of hard to miss when it made the front page of even the legitimate news sites. I didn't look further than the headlines though, and I don't plan to either. I learned long ago not to bother. It just raises your blood pressure and you can't do anything about it anyway.

I don't even know where to start about yesterday. So I guess the beginning is a good place. We left Savannah late morning. He sedated me Saturday night, despite my slight protests. Yes, I was still stupid enough to try to _reason_ with him. In the end, I just let him do it. I will admit here, but certainly not to him, that I do feel better. Of course sleeping ten hours straight will do that to you, and then another eight last night. We had a late breakfast and then he 'humored' me by letting me drive. I did notice his white knuckles holding onto the armrest.

They only got worse as we got close to his place. I didn't really know what to expect -- How he'd react. I'm glad we waited until daylight instead of getting in late Saturday night. His face when we finally pulled up -- God, the way his eyes got bigger, and there was a hint of a smile, but then -- I don't know, it's hard to explain. It's like he froze. His mouth was open, and I don't think he was even breathing. I had to grab his face and talk to him, telling him to breathe and that it was okay and just reassuring him that he wasn't alone. That helped, and we went inside. It was almost like he was seeing the place again as a child, if that makes sense. We held hands as he showed me the entire house, telling me little facts and memories. There were tears running down his face at times, but I just let him do what he needed at his own pace. I felt a bit -- Well, I felt helpless and unsure what he needed, what my place with him was.

When he looked like he was getting overwhelmed again, I pulled him downstairs and into the kitchen and sat him down at the kitchen table. Annie had done an amazing job of filling the fridge, so I quickly made us a few sandwiches. There was a full pitcher of lemonade in there and I poured us each a glass. She had put fresh flowers on the table, too, and we sat and ate in relative silence, each of us running through standard update messages from Starfleet on our comms.

After lunch, I was already worn out again, and I sensed he needed some time alone, so I took a nap on the big sofa in the sunroom in the front. Beautiful screened room with old-fashioned ceiling fans hanging throughout. It was pretty warm, but with the fans, I fell asleep quickly.

I didn't find Len in the house when I woke up an hour or so later, and figured he was out walking the property. I had no idea where to look for him, so I wandered into his father's study, made a few calls to the spacedock where the Exeter is to see how repairs are going. So far, they're on schedule, but they are just getting to the heavily damaged areas so it's possible they'll find more.

I had just pulled a few holo albums from the shelf and was looking through them when Len walked in. He looked a bit calmer, but I could tell it was still all a bit overwhelming for him. We took the albums back to the sunroom and spent some time looking through them. He'd tell me stories that went with the pictures. Sometimes he got quiet, and I just let him be until he was ready to move on. There was laughter, there were a few tears, but I felt honored to be here with him. To be able to help him face the ghosts that have been haunting him for too long. I honestly don't know how much I really helped, but later, he told me he wouldn't have been able to do this without me, and I admit that made me feel pretty damn good.

Dinner was delicious. Not only had Annie stocked supplies, she also did some cooking. There was a dish of the eggplant lasagna that I love so much, plus several others we'll just need to warm up. God, I love that woman. We vidcomm'd her after dinner, and thanked her and talked to her for awhile. She was so thrilled that Len was so touched and happy with everything she did. I know one thing, if I screw things up with Len, I'm not only going to have Jim and half of the Enterprise bridge crew to contend with, I think at this point Annie would turn on me too and kick my proverbial ass.

The best part of yesterday came after our comm. I was already getting tired again, and was worried -- Well, I didn't exactly want to fall asleep on Len before we'd made it up to the master bedroom. He seemed to understand, and grabbed my hand and led me upstairs.

We hadn't really gone in the master bedroom when he gave me the tour earlier. We'd just stood at the open door. So when we got there, he hesitated a moment before going in. After that, there wasn't a moment of hesitation. He completely took over and I just let him. The bed was beautiful. Hundreds of years old, beautifully restored and kept up over time. And the quilt that Annie put on it -- It was beautiful, and I know what it is. It's a wedding quilt. I doubt either Annie or Len thought I'd know that, and I'm sure Annie chose that one purposely. I had a great-grandmother who quilted too, but her quilts were passed down to female members of the Pike family.

The sex - God, it was amazing. He's amazing. It may sound a bit suspect, but there was something about being there with him, in that bed. It was almost like another piece of our relationship -- of us -- cemented into place. Like little by little over all this time, we're truly -- God, I don't even know how to describe it. I guess after last night, and after everything we've been through, I truly feel bonded to him. It feels right. And it's scary as hell to type this, but it feels like -- well, how it should when it's forever.

I'm not sure I believed in forever before. I've never really thought like that. I've always lived in the moment. Even though I married, I never really felt like 'this is the person I'm spending the rest of my life with.' It was never like that. Even with Robin. Sure, if things were different, I may have. But I never really thought of forever with them.

When I'm with Len, the way I feel about him -- I'm not sure if forever will be long enough.

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike**

_Monday 2260.176_

Well, today ended up being interesting. I was feeling sleepy again after I finished my last entry, so I went back upstairs and curled up behind Len. He barely stirred, and we slept another hour or so. I woke up again first, and Len was still sleeping pretty soundly. That surprised me, but I suppose the emotion of yesterday -- I think he was just spent. I was comfortable and happy so I just stayed, closing my eyes and drowsing again until I felt him starting to stir.

I had been hard off and on all morning, but when he stretched and his ass pushed into my cock, I couldn't wait any longer. I grabbed the lube from the nightstand behind me and poured some on my hand. I kissed the back of his neck and across his shoulder before biting down at the same time as my lubed hand grabbed his cock. Once he was hard, I rolled him forward slightly, lubed my fingers up again, and quickly got him ready for me. Like last night, neither of us said anything. We both know the intense need we have for each other at times, and this was one of them.

When he was ready, I rolled him back toward me and lifted his leg up and over my elbow, as I slid into him from behind. Fuck, he felt good. I still cannot fathom how good it is with him every single time. I took my time, fucking him slowly, kissing his neck, nipping on his ear, breathing heavily into it. It was heady, so much so that I whispered words into his ear that I don't recall exactly, but basically telling him that I was making him mine in this bed as well.

He turned his head back, twisting and pressing his lower body even more against me so he could reach my mouth. He wrapped his arm around my head as we kissed. I swear sometimes the hottest thing about him is kissing him while he's moaning into my mouth -- Feeling his breath hot on my face. I sped up, and told him to jerk himself off. I pulled his knee up higher and really started driving into him, hitting his prostate over and over. God, it was beautiful to watch him from behind like this, the look of pleasure on his face. He literally looked drugged and damn if I didn't get off on the fact that I made him that way. A few more thrusts and I was coming inside him. Len was still moaning, and I could tell by the hitching in his breath he was getting close.

I don't know how I did it, because I was barely able to move after I came, but I just had to taste him. I slid out, scooted back, pulled him over and took him into my mouth. A couple licks and I swallowed him down, sucking hard and fast. He came, bucking into my mouth as I watched him -- So fucking gorgeous as I swallowed all of it down and licked him clean. I stayed there, my chin on his hip as I watched him, mouth still open, breathing hard, tongue licking across his upper lip. And then he smiled, still lying there with his head back and God, I was gone. Completely. My heart, with God as my witness, it skipped a beat. Several, in fact. Len doesn't smile enough, but when he does -- Just -- God.

His hand came down to my head, but the rest of him still hadn't moved. He ran his hand through my hair and I closed my eyes at the feel of it. Finally, it slowed, and he whispered _come here_ , and I crawled up with what little strength I had until our mouths met, tongues tangling as we turned on our sides towards each other and just kissed, and kissed, our hands in each other's hair, our legs entwined, and kept kissing until I swear my lips felt raw. I didn't care though. I didn't want it to stop.

Of course it did. In the form of Len's comm beeping. He rolled back enough to grab it off the nightstand. At which point he muttered several expletives and said the hospital had a cancellation and if we hurried he could go use me as a human lab rat. Well, those are _my_ words, not his, but it's the truth. Instead of lying in bed and drowsing with Len, I was ordered into the shower and we were in the hover-car fifteen minutes later, and he even gave me permission to go as fast as I wanted. Talk about scary.

He was worried that I might be recognized, and if the press got wind of us going to the hospital -- Well, I agree, that wouldn't be good. So Len made a quick call at my suggestion to see if we could go in some kind of service entrance. I activated the top and darkened the windows on the hover-car before we got there. I was directed to land on a certain roof and we got in the same elevator the shuttles and ambulances use.

Once inside, we were headed to fairly isolated areas, so other than an orderly or a nurse, we didn't pass anyone until we got to the diagnostic lab that Len had arranged to use. I was a bit surprised when Len greeted the lab technician with a handshake that turned into a hug. Granted, I know he used to work here, but he never talks about anyone from his past. I think he mentioned a couple people from his Georgia days that he kept in touch with. I will have to ask him later.

He introduced me quickly to his friend Mark, who, after a few quick words with Len about one of the machines, disappeared and it was just us. I felt a bit awkward. This was the first time since he left on the Enterprise that he personally examined me. Granted, he's kept a pretty good eye on me whenever we've been together, but this was a complete physical. And I have to say, I think I understand now why ethically, they say doctors shouldn't treat family, because it was different now that we're together.

Thorough doesn't even begin to describe Dr. Leonard McCoy. I really tried to cooperate, but frankly having this thrown at me so suddenly -- Well, I not only got the _look_ , but the eyebrow a couple of times too. It wasn't until after about three different tests that I noticed he was carefully transferring everything to his personal PADD and then erasing the results from the machine. I know he had mentioned that it would have to be off the record, but fuck -- I guess I really didn't think of the ramifications. He's risking a lot for me. Hell, his entire medical career -- all because I'm a stubborn idiot. I even tried to make a joke about looking for brain damage, but he wasn't amused. He's very serious when he's working. I finally just shut up and let him finish.

He didn't seem too happy when we were done. He told me he had to run the blood and a few other things himself in another area. What he said next, though, was what really surprised me. He suggested I go back to the house. He said he'd be a few hours and there was no reason for me to stick around. He wanted me to go home and rest. And he said that Mark was off about the time he'd be done and had offered to bring him home, and it would be nice to catch up with him. I honestly felt like I was getting the brush-off. I didn't like feeling like that. I deserve it, though. He did give me a kiss and walked me back to the elevator to take me to the roof.

So here I am at home. I napped for two hours. Took care of some Starfleet business. Talked to Annie and my parents. Len commed that they'd be here in about an hour and said he'd invited Mark to stay for dinner. So I pulled some steaks out, have fresh vegetables ready to steam, and potatoes ready to bake. Len told me we'd talk later when I asked him about the results, and I'll admit, I'm a little nervous. Not just about that, but also because Len has been acting a bit strange since we got to the hospital.

I hope my idiocy hasn't screwed things up with us.

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**

_Monday 2260.176_

God damn, that was an awkward dinner. Almost as fun as the time one of Jim's one-night stands invited herself to sit with us in the Academy mess hall and spent the entire meal throwing herself at me in some misguided attempt to make Jim jealous.

Chris did _not_ like Mark, or maybe he just resented his presence, intruding on our limited time together. Not that I blame him. It wouldn't have been my first choice either, but after what Mark risked for both of us today, it would have been churlish not to at least offer him a meal.

Let me back up, though. The day started out perfect, with Chris waking me up by preparing me and then pushing into me from behind. He fucked me slowly, murmuring about how I'd made him mine, and now he was making me his, and how we both belonged to this place, and to each other, forever. I think it's the first time he's used that word out loud, and it thrills me as much as it scares me. I want forever with him, more than anything. But I swore I'd never put myself in this position again, never get in so deep that I could be hurt as badly as I was with Joss. Now, with Chris -- well, it's too late for that. I'm in deeper with him than I ever was with Joss. He makes me believe it's possible, though. Forever, I mean.

We were lazing around in bed, just catching our breath, when my comm went off. It was Mark, at the hospital -- they'd had a cancellation and I could get in on the diagnostic equipment I needed if we left in a hurry. So I practically pushed Chris into the shower and rushed us out the door. He wasn't thrilled about it, but he's still feeling guilty about how he screwed up with the meds, so he went along with it without too much fuss. At his suggestion, I commed ahead to Mark and got him to secure the rooftop so we could land there without going in the public entrance. Technically, the rooftop landing pad is supposed to be only for official vehicles, but once in a while a celebrity or politician or someone else who doesn't want to be seen for whatever reason manages to get permission. Permission we didn't have, naturally. Good lord, I hate sneaking around. Makes me feel jumpy as hell and guilty as sin.

When we got inside, Mark greeted us. I tried to shake his hand, but he pulled me in for a hug. He's always been a touchy-feely one. Anyway, he was a lifesaver today. He ran interference with the staff over the hovercar being parked on the roof, made sure we were undisturbed, and then after I did Chris's exam, he stayed with me while I ran all the tests. I had no authorization to be doing what I was doing, and if I'd been caught -- well, it would have been bad. For me and for Mark too. He'd have lost his job, no question about it, and we both could have faced criminal charges as well. But he stuck by my side so if we were questioned, he could say he was running some tests for patients and I'd just been helping him out, since I was in town and I'd come by to visit him today. Not exactly kosher, but not as serious a violation as running off-the-record tests on a Starfleet Admiral who isn't a patient at the hospital and whose doctor-slash-lover has no privileges at that hospital. I'd sent Chris home already -- there wasn't anything he could do, and his presence would have just complicated the situation if we were caught, and made us more noticeable and more likely to be questioned in the first place. Especially since he's fairly recognizable.

It was nice to get a chance to talk to Mark, although it was also a trip down memory lane for me, and most of the memories from that time aren't exactly sunshine and rainbows. But he either knew that or picked up on it, because he kept it light, just reminiscing about pranks some of the staff used to pull on each other, and catching me up on the latest gossip. There was an awkward moment when I asked after his wife and found out that he's been divorced for over a year now. But then he said that he was ready to date again, and he had a crush on some starlet and maybe Chris could introduce them, since according to the tabloids she's his secret love-child. I got mock-huffy and asked him what he was insinuating about my boyfriend. He said that he was insinuating that he's a sexy beast who's irresistible to male and female alike and would have beautiful, talented children. I laughed and had to agree with all of that.

He seemed a bit lonely, and with all he'd done for me, I just couldn't let him go home to an empty house, so I invited him to come to dinner. As soon as it was out of my mouth I realized I should have asked Chris first. But Mark was so damn thrilled that I didn't have the heart to take it back. So I commed Chris and told him Mark would be coming over. I could tell right away that Chris was -- not angry, exactly, but maybe a bit irritated and a little hurt. I was just hoping I hadn't screwed up too badly by inviting Mark.

I had, though. Chris was exhausted from all the tests today, and still not recovered from the health problems he brought on himself, and that's a combination that's bound to make him testy anyway. Then when I brought Mark home, without clearing it first... I don't know. Maybe he was jealous of Mark? That's ridiculous, though. Good god, Chris knows how much I love him and how badly I want him. How could he think I'd ever look in any other direction? I guess jealousy's not rational, though.

Anyway, I'm not sure if Mark noticed anything was off, since he'd never met Chris before today. Chris was definitely more stiff and formal tonight than he usually is. In fact, he was treating Mark the way I've seen him talk to a few alien dignitaries and a couple other Starfleet officers -- anyone he doesn't trust farther than he can spit. There were a handful of those at the Officers' Ball and I could instantly tell the difference in his manner, even though he was still faultlessly polite. I don't think Mark picked up on it. At least, if he did, he didn't let on. I felt awkward as all hell, though, trying to keep the peace, to be hospitable to Mark without riling Chris anymore.

Thank god Mark had an early shift tomorrow, so he excused himself fairly soon after dinner. I saw him off, and thanked him again for what he did for me today. I owe him one. Of course, he damn well knows it and told me that he'd be saving his marker for a rainy day. Fair enough, though.

When I got back inside, Chris had done the dishes and disappeared upstairs. Maybe he's just tired, or maybe he's pissed off. After I finish this up, I'll go on up and face the music. Guess there's no time like the present. At least, thank god, there's nothing wrong with him that a week or so of taking it easy and taking his damn medicines won't cure. I can face his moodiness, as long as I know he's safe and healthy.

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**

_Tuesday 2260.177_

Huh. Maybe there's something to be said for this talking business after all.

I went upstairs last night, worried that I'd screwed up by bringing Mark over for dinner, and it turns out Chris was worried that I was mad at _him_. We both tried to apologize simultaneously, and then we both tried to insist that the other one go first. It was like one of those old comedy routines. Finally we managed to work it out, and we were both so relieved we practically collapsed into each other's arms. I told him that he's fine, physically, that he just needs rest. He promised to take it easy and to actually listen to me if I told him he was pushing himself too hard. It didn't escape my notice that he didn't actually promise that he'd _stop_ what he was doing if I told him he was pushing himself too much, but I suppose I can't expect miracles. I am starting to catch onto his tricks, though.

We were both too worn out to get up to anything frisky, but we kissed and held each other until we fell asleep, and I woke up this morning wrapped in his arms.

The sun's just rising now. Chris is still sleeping, and I'm sitting in bed next to him, writing this on my comm unit. I think I'll propose that we just have a quiet, lazy day at home. I know we could both use it. For now, I'm going to go make some breakfast. Maybe those peach waffles that Chris liked so much last time I made 'em. Well, maybe I'll just catch a few more winks first.

  



	28. Shining With All His Might (Part 27 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The correspondence and journals of Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy. Summer days in Georgia.

_**Trek Fic: Shining With All His Might (Pike/McCoy, R)**_  
 **Title:** Shining With All His Might (Part 27 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** R-ish  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** Around 6000  
 **Summary:** The correspondence and journals of Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy. Summer days in Georgia.  
 **A/N:** From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) : I'd like to apologize for this. IT'S ALL HER FAULT. [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/): Yes, yes, it is ALL MY FAULT. *evol laugh*

  


  
**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike**

_Tuesday 2260.177_

Nothing much happened today. After the misunderstanding yesterday, we had a pretty lazy day. I will say, though, that I'm relieved that I didn't screw up my recovery. I don't think Len is going to ever trust me again when it comes to my health, and rightfully so. That might not be a bad thing, but it's one inevitable effect of having a relationship with a doctor, especially a brilliant one.

Len was already up when I woke up this morning. I could hear him puttering around in the kitchen. Honestly, I could have rolled over and gone back to sleep, but I figured if he was cooking for me, I should get up. I slipped into my jeans and grabbed a t-shirt and sauntered downstairs. As expected, he was slicing peaches and had waffle batter ready.

I have to admit, I love these little -- Well, I guess you would call them domestic moments. I think I stood in the doorway and just watched him for a minute or two before he looked up and noticed me. The smile he gave me, and the 'Mornin' Darlin' -- God, what that man does to me.

We had a quiet breakfast in the sunroom. I think that's my favorite room in the house, full of overstuffed chairs and the couch with a view of the trees around the property. It's just beautiful. I fell asleep shortly after I ate, just lounging on the couch. _That_ is why I stopped taking some of the meds. I feel like I'm sleeping away our time together. I almost wish I was back to the weeks when I wasn't able to sleep at all. Of course, the stress it was putting on my body, not to mention the fact that I was losing my mind -- I wouldn't want that part back. Now that I'm with Len, I'm so relaxed that -- Well, the meds all work like they should have in the first place.

I'm not complaining -- Oh who am I kidding, yes I am. I don't like not feeling in control. And the last two years I've felt anything but. I know I still need time after this last surgery. And I know it's a miracle that I'm walking and that I'm not a vegetable. I know these things. It just doesn't make it any easier when I only have a little more than a week left with the man I love and won't see him for another six months or more. And that isn't even guaranteed.

We spent the morning walking the property. Well, some of it anyway. I think Len knew how tired I was so he kept us pretty close to the house in every direction. He did show me the stream, and we walked through the fruit orchards. We definitely need to get them up and running again. We talked about that some. I told him Annie would love to finish renovating the main house. We talked about converting one of the outbuildings to hire a full time caretaker too. I didn't push though, but I know he likes the idea.

When we walked by the barn and the stables -- Well, I could see the look in his eyes, remembering when there were animals there. I told him that if we hired staff, we could look into doing that again. He looked wistful and I know it's hard for him to decide what to do here. He's still finding his place here -- making peace with everything. I know it's not going to happen during this trip. He needs more time, but at least it's a start.

After walking around the property for a few hours, I was tired. We ate lunch, and then I went upstairs and slept -- Until dinner time. I was pretty mad that I slept that long. When I got up, I found Len in the study writing a paper of some sort for Starfleet Medical. I apologized for sleeping so long, and he looked at me and told me that he wouldn't care if I slept the entire time we're here if it means I'll be 100% healthy again. The worst part is that I know he means it.

I wasn't really hungry, so he took my hand and led me outside. He picked up a lantern from the front porch and we walked around to the back where the big hammock he told me about rests between two huge trees. He put the light down on the ground and we climbed in, laughing as we nearly fell off until we got it balanced right and we were lying side by side.

You forget how beautiful the night sky is outside the city. How many stars there really are in the sky. There are even more here than in the desert it seems. We rocked peacefully in the hammock while he told me a few stories from his childhood, and how he'd studied for his medical boards lying in this hammock when he was home from school.

We went back to the house and had a late dinner. I still wasn't very hungry so we just had salads with some grilled chicken tossed in at his insistence, so I'd get my protein. There isn't a screen in the house to watch movies, believe it or not. I guess the old one they had in the family room broke shortly after his father died, and Len never replaced it. I told him we'd be rectifying that, and when he was busy cleaning up after dinner, I grabbed my PADD and ordered one for the family room and a couple other small ones for around the house.

For awhile, we both sat in chairs working away on our PADDs. I was approving/disapproving various things for the Exeter while Len was writing some more. About the third time he saw me yawn, he set his PADD down and mine too and grabbed my hand and led me upstairs. This time when he undressed me there was no sex. Just a bit of kissing before we curled up, him spooning behind me as I fell asleep.

Unfortunately, I only slept a couple of hours before a nightmare woke me. Luckily, I didn't wake Len up, so I came downstairs to get my PADD and write this entry while I try to chase the thoughts from the dream away. That's only the second nightmare I've ever had when I've been with Len. I used to think he kept them away from me. The first one was bad -- It was when I was on the Enterprise for its inspection, and I woke up screaming and scared him half to death. This one wasn't -- Well, I wasn't so violent when I woke up, thank god.

It's close to midnight now and I'm sleepy again, so I'm going to head back to bed. I think we're going into Atlanta tomorrow. He mentioned wanting to visit the lawyer's office to take care of some things with the house. Maybe we can stay in the city and do a bit of sightseeing for the day. I've never really explored Atlanta before and I'm sure there are a lot of places that he can share with me.

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**

_Wednesday 2260.178_

Yesterday was heavenly. We just relaxed and stayed around the house most of the day, did a little walking around the grounds, but nothing too exciting. I could spend our entire leave like that and not get bored. Chris, though -- well, I think he was getting restless by the end of the day. I think the downtime did us both some good, though. I feel like we're both a little more relaxed than we were. We haven't spent a lot of time together, just us with nothing on the agenda. I hope we get to do more of it.

Today was many things, most of them good, but relaxing wasn't one of them. We spent the day in Atlanta. We started with an 0900 appointment at my lawyer's office, so I could review and sign my new estate paperwork. I also added Chris to the title on the Georgia property. It's a little scary, I've got to admit. It's a break with tradition, because through the generations, the blood McCoy in the relationship has always held sole title. It's the only thing of any value that I own, and in some ways it's an integral part of who I am. I never would've considered adding Joss to the deed. But with Chris, it feels like the right decision. Part of it, I'm sure, is that he's bringing so much to the relationship materially that I want to feel like I'm giving him something too, something of real value. Then also, there's part of me that wants to prove how committed I am to him. As confident as he is in every other area, he seems to need that reassurance that I'm in this for the long haul. And, since it's my damn journal and I might as well be totally honest, I'm hoping that it might help alleviate some of the jealousy that I know he still feels about Jim. This is something that I'm sharing with Chris, and Chris alone. I might someday have Jim out as a guest, but to give Chris joint ownership of my only home -- I hope he knows what a huge goddamn deal that is for me. He's got other properties and sometimes I worry that he looks at this one as just another asset.

Anyway, after the lawyer's office, we did some sightseeing. We toured a historic home that survived the devastation of World War III, and visited the Martin Luther King, Jr. memorial, where his home and the church he preached at used to stand. Then I insisted that we sit down and have lunch. We spent the afternoon shopping and walking around downtown. That was where we ran into Jocelyn.

What are the odds? I'm sure Spock could give me an exact figure, but even I know that they're pretty damn low. For god's sake, it's a city of millions. I purposely stayed out of the High Museum because I didn't want to see her; turns out she doesn't even work there anymore. Let me back up.

Chris was talking to me about picking out some artwork for the place in San Francisco. It's a bit bare, could use some touches to make it feel more like home to both of us. We happened to be walking by an art gallery, so we decided to stop in. Well, who should be running the place but Jocelyn. And, as was immediately damn obvious, she's very pregnant.

It was an odd experience. I expected it to be... I don't know, different than it was somehow. Awkward, or antagonistic, or difficult. But it wasn't, not really. We were surprised to see each other, naturally. I didn't know whether to shake her hand or hug her when we first saw each other, but Chris had a death grip on my arm, so in the end I did neither. We did the "hello" and "fancy meeting you here" thing, and I introduced Chris. I congratulated her on the pregnancy and asked when she was due. She's going to be having a little boy in October. She left her job at the High about two years ago, has been managing the gallery ever since. I guess the pay's better and the hours are more reasonable. She and Clay are doing well, or so she says.

Chris turned his charisma to full blast and charmed the socks off of her, but I could tell he wasn't entirely thrilled. Good lord, there's so much going on right now that we're dealing with, this was just another thing piled on top that we really didn't need. Of course, he had to demonstrate his status as my partner or, I don't know, show her how happy we are together or something. Not that I objected, but I definitely wouldn't've stayed to talk as long as he did. He had her take us through the whole damn gallery and tell us about the artists' work.

He kept his hand on me in a proprietary way the entire time and kept asking me my opinion. At one point he said "Do you think this would look good in our bedroom?" I just chuckled and told him that he was the one with the artistic eye, and that as long as I got to wake up to the sight of his face, I didn't give a damn what was hanging on the walls. I swear he blushed just a bit when I said that. Not so much that anyone else would notice, but I certainly did. It was the cutest goddamn thing I've ever seen.

I'd pretty much forgotten Joss was even there, until she said something about another piece of art. I caught her looking at me a bit strangely. I couldn't read her face, quite. It wasn't hostile, though. More... I don't know, maybe a little sad, or relieved, or a mix of both. Or maybe I'm projecting and that's how I was feeling. I do know that my anger is pretty much gone. And a lot of the bitterness too. Not completely; not sure it'll ever go away completely, but seeing her, well, it didn't make me steaming mad the way it used to towards the end of the marriage and during the divorce.

And seeing her pregnant -- well, it's a little tough. It brings back memories, and it brings back old wishes and dreams that we had together. But it's not nearly as bad as I would have expected. And I'm genuinely glad for her. I think she and Clay will be good parents, and that's not something I would've expected to ever be able to admit, even to myself.

I'm sure it helps that I've got Chris. Hell, I'm sure it's almost entirely because I've got Chris. I've moved on. I'm actually happy now, happier than I'd been with Joss for years, if ever. Despite all the crap that Chris and I have been through, or maybe because of it, we're good together. Solid. We suit each other down to the ground. I feel confident in our relationship, and in my ability to lean on Chris, in a way I'm not sure I ever had with Jocelyn. And if she has that now with Clay, well, I can't begrudge her that.

Of course, since Joss has proper Southern manners, she saw us off with an invitation to dinner at some unspecified future date. I was about to give the proper Southern response of a vague "Oh, absolutely, we'd love to do that someday," which of course would turn out to be never. But Chris, who doesn't know the secret code, interrupted and said "Oh, I don't think we'll be able to. Sorry." Of course he wasn't sorry, and of course it was hopelessly gauche, but he's a California boy, and thus by definition uncivilized, so we make allowances. Joss and I looked at each other and I knew we were both thinking the same thing, and it was so strange. A moment of connection, like old times. Then it was gone, and we said goodbye, and I walked out with Chris, so glad that it was him by my side instead of her.

Good god, he was all over me the rest of the afternoon. Kept his hand on the small of my back, touched me to rearrange my hair or brush lint off my shirt or any other reason he could think of. It's embarrassing to admit, but I loved it. I loved every moment of it. Feeling like he wanted me so much, wanted to show everyone that I'm his. Lord, that sounds pathetic, but it's the truth. At one point, he pulled me into a side alley, pushed me up against a wall, and started kissing me, hard. His arms were braced on either side of me, and I was holding onto his hips, and god knows how far it would've gone, but I heard a noise, and when I turned my head to look there was a photographer, and he was busy taking holo-shots of me and Chris making out like horny teenagers.

Chris started cursing and would've gone after the guy, but I held him back. Last thing we need is for assault charges to be filed against Chris. Let 'em have their pictures. I'm not ashamed of what we were doing. I asked Chris if he was, and good god, the look he gave me nearly melted my clothes off. He said of course he wasn't, and that anyone who saw the photos was going to be jealous of him for having such a gorgeous lover. I said nah, they'd be jealous of _me_ for having such a gorgeous lover. We argued back and forth about that, and it lightened the mood.

We ended up staying in the city through dinner. We ate at an incredible restaurant, one of those old-fashioned revolving places at the top of the highest building in Atlanta, the Peachtree Tower. The views were beautiful, and the restaurant was definitely romantic. Live music, fresh flowers, dim lighting, the works. I've never eaten there before but I've always heard about it, and it definitely lived up to the billing. God, the way Chris looked, and the way he looked at _me_ , I'm surprised I was able to breathe properly, much less eat a meal and carry on a conversation. There was a dance floor, and after dinner he asked me to dance, and he spoke to the band and got them to play something just for us. It was familiar, slow and hypnotic, and dancing with him with the stars and the lights of Atlanta all around us, feeling his strong arms and breathing his scent -- I think it was one of the best moments of my entire life. It was pure bliss and total contentment.

After that, we went home. I told him that I wanted to have kids with him someday. I've been thinking about it a lot over the past several months, and suddenly it just felt right. He was so damn thrilled. We made love, slow and steady and perfect. He fell asleep right afterward but I'm too keyed up to sleep yet. I think maybe I'll take a drink out onto the porch and just let the sounds of a summer night in Georgia lull me for a while.

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike**

_Thursday 2260.179_

It's a beautiful summer morning here in Georgia. Len has gone for a run so I'm taking care of some 'fleet business and writing this entry in the downstairs study.

I don't even know where to start about yesterday. I didn't really think anything of it when I took care of all the legal stuff back home, but going with Len, and watching him add my name to the deed to this house and update his will and other things -- It hit me that we're really sharing our lives now. Completely. I'm now officially sitting in _our_ house. Legally, it's just as much mine as it is his. That's -- Well, it's damn overwhelming. I'll even admit, I had a moment of panic. I don't think Len noticed, at least I hope he didn't.

It's scary as hell being this -- well, entwined with someone I guess is the best way to describe it. I know that sounds a little weird since I have in fact been married before, but hell, I don't know what to say. Even though I was married, we were very separate in almost everything. The house we lived in was solely mine. I ended up giving it to her in the divorce. I had bought that house before I even met her. It was part of my plan for getting the wife and having the kids. I didn't want it after. I had always had a small one-bedroom in the building where I own my apartment now, and had kept it when I got married. After the divorce, I sold that and bought the two-bedroom with den that I have now -- There was no reason to, but I guess at the time I just wanted a change. It had a bigger balcony, and the kitchen was twice as big.

I love it though, and probably will never give it up, even when I retire. I like having a place in the heart of the city. San Francisco is as much my home as Mojave is. It seems more so now with Len living there with me. I've started thinking a lot about redoing it. I really want him to feel like it's his, to make it ours. In some ways, we have the best of both of our lives. He has this beautiful place here in Georgia that reflects him, or really, his family. I have the place in Mojave that I have completely made mine and I can't wait to share it with him.

I really enjoyed Atlanta with him today except for one part I'll get to later. There is so much history there, hundreds and hundreds of years. I loved seeing the historic houses, some that are still standing from the American civil war era. To me that's amazing. And the house I sit in now is part of history. I talked to him more about making some major renovations and repairs, and he's not as opposed to it as I thought he'd be. He surprised me all day yesterday. While I can see him stare wistfully at something in the house, or on the grounds, there isn't the sorrow that seems to have plagued him for so long. I think being here has done wonders for him.

The most interesting part of yesterday -- Oh hell, who I am I kidding. This is my damn journal and I'm going soft in it. I met the ex-wife yesterday. Fuck, I did not like that. At all. I'm pretty sure Len was well aware of that fact. And it's a good thing she was knocked up because otherwise I probably would not have been the charming man I pretended to be through very gritted teeth. Len was right though, Jocelyn is pretty plain. Not at all what I expected -- I figured Len was just being modest since he still doesn't see how good-looking he is. Don't get me wrong, she's not ugly or anything, I guess I just pictured her being a little more sophisticated than she actually was. Maybe I really don't have to worry about what he'll think once my looks are gone. Oh hell, when did I become so damn insecure?

Still, of all the damn galleries we'd walked by, we have to walk into one that _she_ runs. I held on to Len so tightly -- I was worried about him, especially since she was pregnant. God, it seemed so unfair. Len was amazing though. He was so much calmer than I was -- And when he told me after we left that it really didn't bother him, I realized that he really has moved on, and he's happy with me. That was quite a jolt to my system when it really hit me that _I_ make him happier than she ever did. It made me feel pretty damn good.

I couldn't keep my hands off him after that. There was a moment when we walked by a hotel and I wanted to take him in and get a room and have my way with him. I settled for pulling him down an alley and kissing the hell out of him. I probably would have done a lot more than that if the goddamn photographer hadn't interrupted us. I was furious and completely out of control, and about to go after him. Luckily, Len was calmer and kept me from doing anything stupid. The photog took off, but he already has what he wanted: pics of us heavily making out against the wall.

I thought Len would be upset, but he actually laughed it off. He told me he wasn't ashamed of what we did, and I think I just stared at him -- Fuck, I could not have been more in love with that man at that moment. When I realized he expected an answer from me, I offered to show him that I wasn't ashamed one bit. Reason prevailed, though, and we walked out of the alley hand in hand arguing over -- God, I can't even write it here. It was a bit ridiculous.

We did more walking after that. Ended up in another gallery where I did buy a couple of paintings for our apartment. I did like the paintings in the gallery where Jocelyn worked, but -- I just couldn't buy them for our place. I didn't want to see them up in our apartment and be reminded of her. I'm pretty sure Dr. Rossen would say that was immature of me -- Maybe it is. I did purchase one of the more expensive pieces at Jocelyn's gallery and had it sent to Annie, as a thank you for everything she did in Georgia. Granted, I was probably immature in doing that too, since I just wanted to throw some credits around in front of Jocelyn.

The trip to the city ended with a fabulous dinner in a high rise restaurant overlooking the city. I had slipped dress jackets and ties into the trunk when Len was in the shower in the morning. I called my mother to find out where I should take Len for a nice dinner. Leave it to my mother to pick out someplace -- dare I say romantic? I should have known better, but it makes her happy when I ask for help like that. Len and I had a wonderful time. Truly. The restaurant was beautiful. The food was delicious, and we were catered to by the wait staff. I even got to dance with Len. I don't think I've ever had -- No, I _know_ I've never had a better evening with anyone. It couldn't have been more perfect.

Afterwards, I'll admit, I was pretty worn out. Luckily, Len seemed full of energy, so he drove us back out to his -- I mean _our_ \-- place. I think I slept the entire hour, but I was glad I did. We went upstairs to our bedroom when we got home. He went straight for the med kit and gave me all of my meds. I went to use the bathroom and change and when I came back out, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring off into space. It worried me for a minute, but when he sensed me, he turned and got up and held his hand out to me and walked me over to the little room attached to the master bedroom.

I had no idea what was going on. He stood behind me with his arms wrapped around my waist, chin on my shoulder as he told me that this room had been his nursery for the first year or so of his life and then when he moved into his childhood bedroom, it became his mother's 'notion' room where she had an old fashioned sewing machine and crafts and such. It was empty now, except for the old machine and a bunch of storage containers. Nothing prepared me for what he said next, though.

He told me that he thought it might be nice for it to be a nursery again someday, and that he wanted that with me when we were ready and the time was right. I turned in his arms, in shock, not quite believing what he was saying. In fact, I think I stuttered, asking him if he meant what I thought he meant. He just laughed and smiled and nodded and then grabbed my face and kissed me.

I asked him why all of a sudden, and he said it's been a gradual thing, and since he had delivered that baby, he'd been thinking about it a lot more. He said he knew he was ready after seeing Jocelyn today -- I'll admit I didn't like that part, but he told me it made him realize that he is past all of that, and seeing her pregnant didn't really hurt as much as he would have expected it to. He said he would always grieve for the little girl he never got a chance to have, but he couldn't imagine not being able to share bringing a baby, our baby, into the world with me someday.

There were tears in both of our eyes when he was done, and we held each other there in that doorway for a moment. Then he pulled back and kissed me again and led me over to the bed. We made love, slowly, gently, but the need he had for me and me for him was so overwhelming. I don't think I'll ever get used to it. He came inside me and then sucked me off, and I swear I saw stars when I came. I was exhausted after that, physically and emotionally. He held me and I fell asleep and slept for almost ten hours.

I'm not sure what we're doing today. When we were at dinner last night, we discussed making a plan for getting the house and grounds -- Well, making it our own. Len says there is some furniture he wants to keep, but otherwise, he seems to be all for it. So we'll probably do that the rest of the morning, catalog what he wants to keep and what he wants to move to one of the outbuildings etc. I told him he needs to be specific before we let Annie loose and he laughed. I have a feeling Annie and Len will be doing a lot of comming in the next year, but I have to admit, it was great to see the sparkle in his eye when we stood in this room before he went out for his run. We talked about converting it so we each have an office set up in here.

The weather forecast says there is a storm moving in late tonight. It's brought a little bit cooler air, so I think after I get some more work done, I'll suggest we take a picnic lunch out to that big tree by the stream.

Well, I just heard the screen door shut, so Len must be back from his run. I think I'm going to go join him in the shower.

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**

_Thursday 2260.179_

Chris is sacked out again, after he surprised me by joining me in the shower. I know he resents every minute of sleep, but his body needs it, and I'm just goddamn glad that he's finally getting to rest and recover. It's a peaceful sleep, too - I can see from here his forehead is smooth, not furrowed the way it is when he's only half-sleeping and half-cogitating on some damn thing or other.

The time we've had together this shore leave -- things are moving so quickly. He's a co-owner of this home now, the McCoy family estate, such as it is. I told him I want to have a baby with him at some point, and we looked at the nursery together. We're talking about bringing this place into the modern era, and converting spaces into offices for both of us. He's already ordered vidscreens for practically every room, which made me roll my eyes, but he was happy as a pig in mud unpacking and installing them earlier this morning, so I don't have the heart to tease him. Well, not much. Anyway. I've met his parents, he met Jocelyn, we've both now mentioned the word "forever." We've fought and dealt with it and moved on. We're picking out artwork - unbelievably expensive artwork, at that -- for our place in San Francisco. Everything we're doing is moving us in one direction -- permanence.

I feel like I should be panicking, but I'm just... not. I probably ought to be worried about that -- hell, I worry about every other damn thing -- but for once I'm just going to go with it and enjoy it. I'm sure I'm tempting fate into some truly horrible cosmic punishment by daring to hope that things will continue to go well. Well, so be it. Chris makes me happy and I'm damn well going to let myself be happy, for once in my goddamn life.

He wanted to have a picnic lunch, so I'm going to go throw some food together while he's sleeping. I'll take him to the spot where I lost my virginity -- I know he particularly wanted to see that spot so he could re-christen it. So to speak. Oh good lord, what an awful pun. Anyway, I'd better tuck the lube in the picnic basket while I'm thinking about it. I'll write more later.

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike**

_Thursday 2260.179_

Fuck.

I've really done it now. We were just supposed to have a nice quiet picnic by the stream. The weather was beautiful; there was a light wind blowing. Len made up sandwiches and put the pasta salad Annie had made for us in covered bowls. We sat on a blanket, listening to the water and the wind. It was perfect.

After we ate, we just enjoyed the weather, and each other's company. Len sat propped up against the tree reading a book on his PADD and I did the same, my head on his hip lying crossways. He ran his hand through my hair as I read, and eventually it lulled me to sleep.

I didn't sleep long. Maybe a half hour or so. When I woke up, he was still reading, completely engrossed in whatever it was. His hand was still in my hair, but not moving anymore. I felt so content -- Everything felt so right. I turned my head slightly to get his attention and when his eyes locked with mine, something inside me snapped.

I was no longer Christopher Pike, the stoic, driven man who carefully weighed and calculated every part of my life. Considered every option and had never made a rash, or hell, impulsive decision in my life. Of course, I've done it a few times since Leonard McCoy walked into my life, but this -- Well, what happened today -- I still don't exactly understand.

Because today, I looked up at Len and uttered the words I swore to god I would never say again in my life:

Marry me.

  



	29. But Never a Word He Said (Part 28 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The further correspondence and journals of Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy. Shore leave continues. :D

_**Trek Fic: But Never a Word He Said (Pike/McCoy, NC-17)**_  
 **Title:** But Never a Word He Said (Part 28 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** Around 4600  
 **Summary:** The further correspondence and journals of Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy. Shore leave continues. :D  
 **A/N:** From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) : Do you lurve Bruce Greenwood? Of course you do! So prove it - go join [](http://bruce-greenwood.livejournal.com/profile)[**bruce_greenwood**](http://bruce-greenwood.livejournal.com/) and squee with us! [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) currently has nothing to say as her brain has been broken by the porn she is writing for you guys for a future chapter.

  


To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)

Bones!

I'm in Nepal! Went through downtown Kathmandu this morning and you'll never guess what I saw! You've been holding out on me, man! And you tell _me_ I'm an exhibitionist. Next time, you should go further down the alley if you want to stay hidden.

The weather has been terrible. Torrential rains. Was holed up in a hut with some Tibetian monks for a couple of days during the worst of it. Shore leave has not been what I hoped for so far. Heading to Mt. Everest tomorrow. Thought a nice little day hike would do me some good.

Will send you a holo from the top!

Jim

To: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Jim,

I've got something to tell you. Something important. I'd rather do it in person, or at the very least by vidcomm, but since you're staying in some hut in the godforsaken wilds of Nepal, I suppose it's too much to hope you've got access to one. But I know you have your communicator, so voice-comm me when you get this. I mean it, you infant.

Bones

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike**

_Thursday 2260.179_

All right, I've had a nap, and I think I'm feeling a bit more -- Well, I'm not feeling like -- Hell, I can't even explain how I felt earlier. It still hasn't sunk in. I suppose I should expand on my earlier thoughts.

Re-reading my last entry, it came across like I might have regrets. That couldn't be farther from the truth. I will never forget the look on Len's face when I asked him. It wasn't just one, it was a multitude of emotions, starting with outright shock, then realization of what I'd said, and then -- Hell, I don't even know how to explain it. His mouth opened and shut and his eyes got wide and then I think he realized I was holding my breath waiting for his answer. I was probably turning blue. When the corner of his mouth turned up and his hand on my head gripped tighter and he uttered a simple 'yes' I felt like I was drowning in emotions.

Suddenly, I was the one opening my mouth and not able to say anything. I took a deep breath and sat up and was greeted by his beautiful smile. I grabbed his face and kissed him, cradling it. I pulled back and finally found my voice. I asked him if he was sure, and he laughed and said god yes, and -- I've never felt such pure joy. That's the only way to describe it. I kissed him again and grabbed his right hand. I told him that I hadn't planned this and that I was sorry -- Hell, I was stumbling over my own words at that point. I took the ring off his right hand, and moved it over to his left, kissing him, telling him that I love him, and that he makes me so happy, and how lucky I am. I'm sure there was more, and then he did the same thing with my ring. I told him when we get married, we'll get platinum bands to match our rings.

After that, I undressed him, it was desperate, but loving, as we stripped each other out of our clothes. Thank god he had the foresight to put the lube in the basket. I kissed him all over, drove him crazy teasing his nipples, and sucked him off while I fucked him with three fingers. Then I pushed his knees up and slid inside him, and claimed him as mine -- my fiancé -- under that tree where he lost his virginity so long ago. I took my time, needing to savor it. He eventually wrapped his legs around my back and I fucked him with deep steady strokes, taking my time, kissing him as we swallowed each other's moans. When I finally came, I was dizzy and shaking from the intensity. We held each other tightly for, god, it had to be fifteen minutes, just touching and kissing and whispering words of endearment.

We rinsed off in the stream, splashing water and laughing. We were euphoric. There was something freeing about being in the water listening to the wind. We used the blanket to dry off and then got dressed and trekked back to the house. I was pretty worn out, so he sent me up to nap after giving me a bruising kiss. That's when I wrote the earlier entry and then slept for a couple of hours.

I don't know what Len has been doing all this time, but I can smell something good cooking. I think I'll go take a shower and head downstairs.

We need to call my parents to tell them we're getting married.

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**

_Thursday 2260.179_

Holy shit, Chris asked me to marry him. Well, sort of. It wasn't a question. More of a command.

Good lord, I never thought I'd go down this path again. Marriage, I mean. Putting my faith in forever with one person. Thought I was too jaded for that, or maybe too afraid of getting hurt again. _Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me_ , as my daddy used to say. But Chris... well, he's worth the risk.

He caught me by surprise, that's for damn sure. We were having a picnic down by the stream, and he'd drifted off to sleep with his head in my lap. I was reading. Then I looked down and his eyes were open, and he was looking at me. Don't know how long he'd been awake, just watching me. Our eyes met and his mouth opened, and he said "Marry me."

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, his face locked down. Totally blank captain-face, giving nothing away. I was completely caught off-guard. For a split-second I thought maybe he was joking. But I know Chris, and he wouldn't joke about something like this. I also didn't think he'd ask like this. What I would've expected, if I'd ever thought about it, would be a carefully staged proposal. A fancy private dinner - something gourmet that he'd cooked, expensive champagne, him producing a black velvet box and then getting down on one knee and delivering a beautiful and well-rehearsed speech. Okay, maybe I have thought about it. Maybe too damn much. But in any case, I didn't expect it anytime soon, and I definitely didn't expect it while I was reading up on the recent outbreak of flesh-eating bacteria at the lunar colony.

The way his face blanked after he said the words, I think maybe he didn't expect it either. But somehow, I knew he meant it anyway, even if he hadn't planned it. And when I looked down at him, even with his poker face, I could tell he was scared -- actually scared that I would say no. So as soon as I found my voice, I said yes. Of course I said yes. The amount I love him is truly ridiculous -- in fact, it'd be downright embarrassing how much I love him if I didn't know for a fact that he feels the same way about me.

He actually looked surprised that I'd agreed, though. He sat up so quickly that he nearly smashed our heads together, and then he asked me if I was sure. As if I might take it back. Good god, he's adorable when he's insecure. I smiled and said, yes, I was sure, and then he grabbed me and kissed me like I might disappear any second. Then he was stuttering about something and pulling my ring off. I was about to protest but then I realized what he was doing, so I held still while he moved it to my left hand. Then I did the same for him. Gotta say, I like the way it feels there on my left ring finger. I like the way his looks on his left hand even more.

He made love to me under the tree. There's no doubt that he was the one in charge of that encounter, and dear lord, he took me apart completely. Made me lose all control. I was begging for his touch, babbling who knows what ridiculous nonsense while he worked me with his mouth and hands. Then I was flat on my back, and he was braced over me, fucking me deep and slow, the sunlight filtering through the leaves above him -- well, it's an image that's going to be engraved in my memory until the day I die.

After, we held each other. There was just enough of a breeze to cool us off, and the earth smelled dark and rich. It was perfect. We whispered like we were afraid to break the spell. He told me that he'd been waiting his whole life for someone who made him feel this way. I told him that I'd given up hope that I ever would, until I met him. There was more, sappy endearments and secret vows, but I'm not going to write about it. Some things are too personal even for a journal.

We cleaned up in the stream, and I saw a whole different side of Chris -- lighthearted, even playful. He splashed and laughed, and his face was practically radiating joy. I've never seen him like that before, but I'm going to make it my business to try to make him that happy, as often as I can, for the rest of our lives.

Now we're back at the house. He's upstairs napping, and I'm putting together some dinner. I commed Jim already. I hope he's not weird about it, because he's going to be my best man, whether he likes it or not.

As for how I feel about this -- I'm not sure it's really sunk in yet, to be honest. I think I'm still half-expecting to wake up. But I know I want this. I want forever with Chris, or as close to forever as I can get.

Now I can hear him running the shower upstairs. It's odd, how natural it feels already, the two of us living here together. Except that my heart's starting to beat a mile a minute at the prospect of seeing him again, as if I hadn't just seen him a couple damn hours ago. And on that insipid note, I'd better go make sure the biscuits aren't burning.

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike**

_Friday 2260.180_

The sun is just coming up here on the farm. I'm sitting on the couch in the sun room. Just finished about an hour's worth of Starfleet business. Should be all done with that for today except for a few vidcomms I need to make to headquarters when it's not so early there. Talked to spacedock, though, and it looks like the Exeter will be repaired on time, or at least no more than a day off from our re-scheduled departure.

I also just did something I probably shouldn't have. I could say it's for Len, but that would be a lie, because I'm the one that wishes I could have gotten up and gone horseback riding this morning. So I sent a couple comms inquiring about acquiring a couple of Arabians for the farm here. It works perfectly -- I can have my Quarter horses in Mohave, and Arabians here. I'll have to hire someone to stay on full time here. Which actually is a good idea anyway. So I sent a few inquiries on that too. I'm pretty sure one of the outbuildings here used to be a guest house before it was gutted inside. It will be easy enough to have fixed up.

I'm surprised I woke up so early this morning. I was pretty tired last night. It was such an emotional afternoon and evening. After I showered, I went downstairs and found that Len had made a pot roast complete with vegetables and biscuits. I could tell he was a little anxious when I came down. Truthfully, I was too. It's not everyday you ask someone to marry you, especially since I didn't exactly plan it.

I'll admit, I'm still a bit rattled myself. Not that I haven't thought about marrying him before. We've openly talked about our future before, but both of us were too gun-shy to bring up the 'm' word. In fact, I think all I've said before was 'down the road when things are permanent' -- It's not like I haven't felt like this was permanent the last year anyway. I had planned on bringing it up with him sometime. I just didn't think this was the time. I wanted to be one hundred percent healthy again. I wanted more of our issues -- Well, not resolved, but maybe a bit more progress on them.

I'm not saying it's a mistake to be engaged now. It's not like we're getting married tomorrow. Thinking about it, in some ways I think it will help both of us with some of our lingering issues. We're learning to communicate. We've worked through difficult subjects, and I want to believe we're learning to compromise. I have to say that having the fight that we did in Florida -- Well, it might seem unusual, but having that fight and being able to talk about it and work through it quelled some of my fears. I'll admit I've been a little worried about both of our tempers -- Well, it's one thing to fight in letters, but I knew the real test would be what happens when we're together. It's a relief to know that while I'm not exactly proud of that fight, we both emerged relatively unscathed, and, I'm hoping, a little wiser because of it.

We had a wonderful dinner, and afterwards we commed my parents and then Annie and told them the news. My parents and my grandmother were thrilled. My mother cried, my grandmother, I think, has already started planning the wedding in her mind. Annie was pretty emotional too. We didn't talk to either of them long, but my mother said we need to 'talk' about all the headlines Len and I have been creating. Usually, I don't care, but I know it bothers Len more than he'll ever admit. The last round after we got caught in Atlanta was particularly harsh. Len mentioned that even Jim has seen the headlines. I have to hand it to Len, he's a smart man. He knew my mother wanted to talk to me privately to discuss it. He graciously excused himself to go clean up the kitchen.

My mother suggested we use one of her 'friends' in the press to issue a simple announcement that we're engaged. That should stop some of the more sensational headlines that have been going around. She has a point. If we take the 'speculation' away and give them a definitive answer, they'll run with it a few days and move on. Plus, we'll both be heading back to space so that will help too. I told her to go ahead, and she'll have someone run it at the last minute today so it will get lost in the weekend news.

We sat on the porch after that and watched the storm roll in, simply content to be next to each other. We didn't say much. I did explain to him what my mother was going to do later today. The only thing he wasn't happy about is that he wanted to be able to tell Jim first -- He said he understood, but I know he was a little upset about that. I told him hopefully Jim would comm him back sometime today so it would be a moot point.

When the wind started blowing rain inside, we put the auto-shutters down and went upstairs. I was pretty worn out. Len told me to get undressed and to lie on my stomach and I was too tired to argue. Not that I wanted to. He gave me a massage and god, I love his hands. He worked every knot of stress out of my neck and shoulders.

I have to point out something that I've noticed -- He is always so careful around the two spots on my back where I've had surgeries from the Narada. You can't see the scars, but he knows exactly where they should be. He always touches that area with a feather touch, and when he was done with my massage, he kissed those two spots first, and continued down my back.

I'm pretty sure he had every intention of fucking me when we went to bed, but after he kissed down my back, he moved up and curled up next to me, wrapping his arm around my back. We kissed lazily, both knowing it wasn't going any further. And for the first time in our relationship, we said 'I love you' to each other, him starting, at a time that wasn't during or after sex, or in a comm to each other. I have to admit, it felt right. Everything just feels so right. I'm almost afraid it won't last.

I'm not sure what we're going to do today. I need to send some comms to my bridge crew and a few friends at Starfleet to give them the news so _they_ don't hear it from the press too. I really do hope Len is able to get in touch with Jim. He's been avoiding mentioning him to me, but I know they've been in contact. I can always tell -- Len just gets this look and gets especially edgy, I guess, is the best way to describe it. I can't say that I like it, but I'm trying to understand. I've stopped asking him about it, because he doesn't seem to want to talk to me about it anymore. I'm not sure what that means. I'm still tempted to comm Jim myself, but I promised Len I'd stay out of it, and I'll keep my word unless -- Well, honestly, I feel like I'm screwed in that respect. So I'm just going to stay out of it.

I really miss running. If I thought Len wouldn't have a stroke, I'd go and do that right now to clear my head. Instead, I think I'll go chop up some vegetables so I can make a nice omelet when Len wakes up.

To: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Jim,

Call me, god damn it! I mean it. It's nothing bad, but I need to talk to you right away. And if you're actually climbing Everest, you damn well better be using proper safety gear. If you're not, I'm going to find out about it and kick your ass when I see you next.

Bones

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**

_Friday 2260.180_

God damn it, I hope this isn't a mistake. Getting married, I mean.

It's not a mistake. I know it's not. I love Chris, and he loves me. Anything else, we can figure out. But damn it, I'm already starting to remember some of the less-pleasant aspects of being married. Chris is bound and determined to fix this place up. Not that I mind that in principle, but -- well, there's a reason I didn't ever have vidscreens put into this place. I don't want the newsnets or entertainment nets blaring at me every day. And Chris didn't even ask me first, he just ordered them and installed them. And he's so proud and happy, and it was such a generous gesture. I didn't say anything at the time, because how could I without seeming churlish? And now it's too late to say anything. Only, Chris is a news junkie, watches all the time, and it's driving me absolutely insane.

He also had some kind of high-tech security fence put up around the property to keep out reporters, and now he's talking more extensive renovations to the place, making a caretaker's cottage out of one of the outbuildings, and this morning he told me he's looking into getting some horses. I don't mind any of it, but... I don't know. I don't know how to explain it. I just feel like everything's happening a bit too fast for me to adjust to.

Then there was the talk with his folks to let them know we're getting married. At first it was all smiles and congratulations, and then his mother got down to business and started talking about how we're going to manage the press and which reporters to invite to the wedding, and said that of course she and Chris's father would be hosting an engagement party, and I think I practically fled the scene. I'm not a fan of the paparazzi, don't get me wrong, but I don't give a damn what they say and I _really_ don't want to be involved in a PR campaign instead of a relationship, which is what this is starting to feel like.

Chris didn't even give me a chance to make sure that Jim knew about the engagement from me personally before he and his mother started their press campaign. I know Jim's been incommunicado, but surely the engagement announcement could wait another week -- by then Jim will be due back at Starfleet Headquarters and I could tell him in person. But Chris got this tight, pinched look when I brought it up and I could tell he was holding himself back from making a snippy remark about my relationship with Jim. I didn't want to fight, so I let it drop. But god damn it, I don't want that to set the pattern for our marriage -- him making decisions and me disagreeing but letting it go to avoid a fight. It's just, when we fight, neither of us wins, and we both end up hurting, and I hate that.

When it's just the two of us, and we don't have to worry about the outside world, good lord, it's more perfect than I could ever have imagined anything being. Sometimes I wish we could just live inside the little bubble that we create when we're alone together, and never come out again. But I know that isn't realistic, and hell, we'd both get bored after a while.

I know it comes down to compromise, learning to adjust to each other's needs and each other's foibles. And, in Chris's case, the passel of family that comes with him, and the baggage of fame and money. I know compromise isn't a bad thing, but it's not something I'm particularly good at, or that I much enjoy. He's worth it, though. I just have to keep reminding myself of that. _We're_ worth it.

I think I need to get out of the house today. We'd talked about doing some fishing, and today would be a perfect day for it. I'm going to dig the gear out of storage, then see if Chris is done with his work and wants to get a lesson. At the very least, he can bring his comm padd and work outside while I'm fishing. Then we can have a nice romantic dinner together of fresh trout -- and I'm turning _off_ the damn vidscreen.

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike**

_Friday 2260.180_

Well, today was interesting. I think Len is upset with me. Or mad. I think -- Oh hell, I don't know what to think. I don't think we've ever spent a day together talking about more frivolous things. At one point we were talking about the correct way to cut a mango. This, while we were FISHING.

Yes, Len wanted to go fishing today. And since he seemed to be in a perturbed mood this morning, I easily agreed. I was grateful we went to a different spot in the stream than where I proposed -- I'm sure he did that on purpose. I don't know if that means something. I know we need to sit down and talk about it. But I need to finish wrapping my own head around it first. I know we're okay though. We'll be okay.

Our engagement announcement has hit the press by now. I think that's something he's not very happy about. And I'll admit, I didn't consider Len when I agreed with my mother's suggestion on how to skewer all the unfortunate press we've had since we've been earthside. I tried to explain to him how it would be better this way -- I know he wanted to say something, but he held himself back, probably not wanting to start a fight. Well, it's done. I don't want to sound harsh or uncaring, but it's something he's going to have to get used to.

The day wasn't all bad. It was cooler out because of the storm last night, but still pretty humid. I felt like we were both walking on eggshells around each other. He kept checking his comm all day -- Hell, I was probably an ass when he mentioned that he would have liked to have told Jim first before it's all over the news. He just doesn't realize they wouldn't let up.

I did enjoy fishing. He's a good teacher, more patient than I expected him to be. I caught one trout and he caught three. I wasn't quite used to wading through the water, and went down once or twice. The first time he was so concerned, but the second time he just laughed. God, I love his laugh. And then watching him sit there and debone and clean the fish by the stream -- I could get used to life here someday. It's so different than Mojave, with the trees and the water and so much open space. I imagine it's beautiful here in the fall, and I'm looking forward to seeing that someday. When we got back to the house, he threw the trout on the grill with some potatoes while I threw together a salad.

We sat in the formal dining room. I was trying -- I don't know what I was trying. But I lit old-fashioned candles and set the table. We had a nice dinner. We held hands, we smiled -- But something is off. Yesterday, we both seemed so settled and secure and today I feel like... Well at least for me, I'm feeling like -- I don't know, I guess 'unsettled' would describe how I'm feeling.

After dinner, another storm rolled in. I had some work to do which I finished before I started this entry. Len stayed for a few minutes, but when I commed Sato he excused himself. I heard the water turn on in the bathroom at the end of the hall a few minutes ago. I assume he's taking a bath in that clawfoot tub.

I think I'll go join him, and hopefully we can talk. I'm just not exactly sure where to start.

  



	30. Did Gyre and Gimble in the Wabe (Part 28A  of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexytiems in the bath! \o/ Pretty much PWP, no redeeming value whatsoever. Unless you're like me, and think porn is its own redeeming value. :D

_**Trek Fic: Did Gyre and Gimble in the Wabe (Pike/McCoy, NC-17)**_  
 **Title:** Did Gyre and Gimble in the Wabe (Part 28A of To Talk of Many Things)  
 **Author:** [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)**skyblue_reverie**  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** around 3000  
 **Summary:** Sexytiems in the bath! \o/ Pretty much PWP, no redeeming value whatsoever. Unless you're like me, and think porn is its own redeeming value. :D  
 **A/N:** Another "realtime" (a.k.a. third person narrative) piece. This fits between 28 and 29, which we'll post in a few days.

  


  
Leonard could feel the last of the tension slipping out of his shoulders as the hot water gently lapped at them. He leaned his head back against the rim of the tub -- not the most comfortable position, but right now it felt like heaven. He supposed it wasn't considered macho or manly to enjoy a long, hot bath, but at the moment he didn't give a good goddamn about that. Well, he _never_ gave a goddamn what other people thought, but _especially_ not right now. He needed this. He deserved it. And he didn't get to indulge that often, so he was damn well going to enjoy it while he could.

He drifted for a while, eyes closed, trying not to dwell on anything serious. There'd be time enough for worry later. Right now was just for relaxing. The door opened, the soft squeak of the hinges announcing his visitor. A gust of cool air from the hallway felt refreshing in the steam-heavy room, and Chris's voice slid into the atmosphere without causing a ripple.

"Mind if I join you?"

Leonard opened his eyes lazily, took in the sight of Chris, barefoot but still in jeans and a t-shirt, standing in the open doorway with his head cocked questioningly to one side.

"Not at all, darlin', but I think you're a mite overdressed." He let his drawl flow like honey. It was easy to slip back into it, in this place where he'd grown up. Chris's gaze heated just a bit in appreciation, but he said nothing, just stepped into the room, closed the door behind him, and pulled the t-shirt over his head.

He watched Chris's muscles move under his skin as he removed his clothing. Wondered if he'd ever get tired of this. Didn't think it was possible. Chris was a work of art -- all long lean lines and graceful, efficient movement, nothing wasted, nothing extraneous. And if his skin wasn't quite as taut as it had been in earlier years, and if there were some gray hairs dusted in with the light brown on his chest, well, it just made him even more attractive, and Len would have strong words with anyone who disagreed, even Chris himself.

He expected Chris to climb into the opposite side of the big clawfoot tub, facing him, so it was a surprise when instead Chris stepped toward where he was leaning against the back of the tub and said "Scoot forward, honey."

His cock twitched at the endearment -- it was ridiculous the way his body responded to every little thing Chris said and did. He was already halfway aroused from watching Chris undress, and as Chris climbed into the tub behind him, he was rapidly getting harder. Chris settled in, wiggling a little, his own half-hard cock rubbing against Len's ass as he got himself into a comfortable position. The water level in the tub rose alarmingly, and Len couldn't find it in himself to even care. At this point, it was pretty obvious that they were going to be getting active enough in this tub to flood the entire bathroom, and Len couldn't even work up a decent gripe about it. All he felt was anticipation. He shook his head at himself.

"Something wrong?" Chris asked quietly, misinterpreting the gesture.

The _no, nothing_ rose automatically to his lips, but he bit it back, knowing it wasn't a fully honest answer. So instead, he gathered up his courage and asked the question that had been on his mind. "Do you regret asking me?"

The sudden stillness behind him told him that Chris hadn't expected that. In typical Chris style, he didn't answer, instead parrying the question with one of his own. "Do you regret saying yes?"

Len sighed. Sometimes it was frustrating, the way Chris could so effortlessly control their verbal interactions when he wanted to. Chris was a master tactician and had the blood of a diplomat in his veins. Len... was not, and did not. He could go with the childish "I asked you first," but he knew that would cut no ice with Chris. If Chris was going to insist that Len be the first to bare his soul, and it looked like he was, then he might as well give in gracefully. Damn it.

The tension was back in his shoulders, the knots re-forming even in the heat of the water. Still, no choice now but to see this through.

"I don't regret it," he said finally, and he could feel Chris relax just a bit behind him. "All the same, we've got a lot to work out. It's not gonna be easy. And neither of us is particularly easygoing by nature. I'm just worried, is all. I don't want to ruin things by trying to go to fast, and if you're not ready yet, Chris... I don't want you to marry me out of some sense of obligation, or even worse, because the press has been harping on our relationship. So now it's your turn. Do you regret asking me?"

He tensed, not sure he wanted to hear the answer, but knowing that he needed to. The silence stretched out like a thread, tighter and tighter, and just as he was sure something was about to snap, Chris spoke.

"No, I don't regret it." Len sensed a "but" coming. "But... well, it was a spur of the moment decision. I don't do things that way, Len. Ever. So it's taking me some time to wrap my head around it. And you're right, we have a lot to work out, and normally, I would've given those issues a lot more thought before I proposed. I guess what I'm saying is that I'm out of my comfort zone, and it's making me edgy. But I know that I want to marry you, Len. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. All right?"

"Yeah, all right," Len agreed, leaning back into Chris's welcoming arms. They'd need to discuss those issues eventually, but right now, it was enough to know that Chris didn't think proposing had been a mistake. Time enough to hammer out the rest later.

He let his head fall back onto Chris's shoulder, enjoying the way Chris's appreciative hum vibrated through his own chest. He let his eyes drift shut again, focusing on the feel of Chris's fingertips as they traversed his body. The movements started out soft, exploratory, but quickly increased in purpose and intensity.

Chris was in a ruthless mood, it seemed, thumbing his nipples roughly again and again until Len was bucking and moaning in his arms, sending waves of water sloshing over the rim of the tub. The feel of the water sliding past his achingly hard cock only increased his tension -- the sensation wasn't enough; he needed more contact, contact that Chris wasn't giving him. He knew better than to try to touch himself, though -- Chris would bat his hand away and make him wait all the longer. So he clenched his hands on Chris's knees where they jutted out of the water on either side of his hips. Chris's cock was hard too, and nestled snugly into the crack of Len's ass. Fuck, it felt incredible.

Now Chris had one arm banded across his chest, pinching and rolling one of Len's nipples between thumb and forefinger. The other hand was reaching lower, between Len's splayed legs, below his throbbing cock, and softly fondling his balls. The contrast of sensations, harsh and tender, drew a keening moan out of Len and he arched his back involuntarily. He heard Chris's chuckle, low and knowing, in his ear.

"You like that, huh, baby?" Chris asked.

"Fuck, Chris, _yes_ ," Len hissed.

"Tell me how much."

Len tried with his scrambled brain to figure out an appropriate response. "A goddamn lot, all right?"

Chris chuckled again. "I know you can do better than that. Tell me how much you like what I'm doing to you."

"How the hell am I supposed to quantify it? I like it three-hundred and twenty-seven? Fuck, Chris, it's so good. Don't stop. Just -- just touch my cock, darlin', please."

"Uh-uh. Not yet. Not till you tell me exactly how much you like this."

Len growled in frustration. He'd say anything at this point, would be happy to beg, but he didn't know what Chris wanted to hear and he didn't think he had enough functioning brain cells to figure it out. Chris was a man of no mercy and infinite patience, though, and he'd be happy to keep Len on the edge for as long as it took until Len figured out what he wanted to hear. And even then, Len would've wept in gratitude for the intensity of the pleasure Chris gave him, how amazing it felt to be pushed to his limits, tested, pushed even a little farther until he'd fractured and splintered and been remade in Chris's sure hands.

"The best," he blurted, suddenly knowing what Chris wanted, needed, to hear. "You're the best, Chris. The best I've ever had. No one's -- uh -- oh fuck -- no one's ever made me feel this way, this good. Only you, baby. Only you."

He heard the telltale hitch in Chris's breathing that told him he'd hit the mark. Chris's hands stilled, and then he was wrapping strong arms around Len and pulling him into a crushing embrace. He said nothing, just buried his face in the crook of Len's neck, but Len knew what Chris was trying to convey. Knew that he was the only one who made Chris feel this way, just as Chris was the only one who could affect him so deeply.

After a brief moment, though, Chris's hands were pushing him, urging him forward, up onto his knees straddling Chris's lap, his hands braced on the sides of the bathtub and his ass exposed. He heard Chris unscrewing a bottle cap, then he was hissing in pleasure-pain as two of Chris's oil-coated fingers breached him hard and fast. He wanted to push back, to show Chris how much he wanted this, but he didn't dare move for fear of slipping on the slick surface of the tub. So instead he moaned, guttural and helpless. He heard Chris's muttered "Jesus fucking _Christ_ , Len."

Chris kept one hand on Len's hip and with the other worked him open, his fingers twisting and sliding into Len just forcefully enough to keep Len hanging on the precipice of what he could bear. He realized with a shock that Chris knew Len's own body, Len's own limits, better than he did himself. He let this new knowledge settle into him, sending out ripples across his mind. It was unsettling, to be known this well, this deeply. He'd never be able to hide from Chris, not about anything important, anyway. But the flip side was that Chris was the only one who'd ever cared enough to learn all the ins and outs, the nooks and crannies of Leonard McCoy, and that -- that was a pearl beyond price. The fact that Chris knew Leonard better than anyone else ever had and still, somehow, found him worthy of love... well _that_ was just unbelievable. But no way in hell Len was going to go looking that particular gift horse in the mouth.

"Obviously I'm not doing my job well enough if you're still able to think that hard," came Chris's voice from behind him, soft and amused, and maybe just a teeny bit peeved. Len couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up -- just as he was thinking how well Chris knew him, here was yet another demonstration.

"Just thinkin' about you, darlin'," Len assured him.

"Oh? What were you thinking?"

"That in some ways you know me better than I know myself."

There was sudden silence behind him. He looked over his shoulder to find Chris looking at him with a surprised, but definitely pleased, expression. "Yeah?" Chris said softly.

"Yeah," Len repeated. Chris's smile was blindingly beautiful.

"Well, I know what you need right now, Lieutenant Commander."

"What's that?"

"You need my cock, buried all the way inside your tight little ass."

Len groaned. "Fuck, Chris."

"That's _Admiral Pike_ to you," said Chris with a smirk. "Now come on, baby, sit back. Sink down onto me. Yeah, that's it -- oh, god, Len -- yeah, push down harder. Take me all the way in."

Len knelt, straddling Chris's lap, impaled on Chris's cock, gasping harshly in the humid air. "That what you wanted, _sir_?" he ground out, only half-joking.

Joined as they were, he felt Chris's answering shudder. "You're a mouthy one, Lieutenant. Let's have less sass and more respect." Len groaned. They were playing, and they weren't, and it ought to have felt _dirtybadwrong_ but lord, it was so damn hot.

"Yes -- yes, sir," he hitched out as Chris dug his fingers into Len's hips, pulling him back harder onto the cock that was forcing him open.

"Now squeeze. Squeeze tight around me," Chris said, voice rough. Len clenched his muscles around Chris, and fuck, that hurt, but it was so good. Chris groaned.

"Yeah, fuck, just like that. Now _move_ , goddamnit. That's an order."

Len's fingers clutched at the side of the tub as he rose up and down, only a few inches, just enough to get a really good rhythm going, hard and fast. Jesus, he wasn't going to last long at this rate. Chris was pulling him back and thrusting up as much as he could, Len grinding himself harder and harder down into Chris's lap, the water splashing wildly now with the movements of their bodies.

"Damn it -- Chris -- the water -- " Len protested feebly.

"Fuck the water. Fuck the bathroom. I'll buy you a new one. Now push yourself down on me, harder. And keep squeezing."

"Ah, god, gonna come -- sir," he added at Chris's warning growl.

"Not until I say so, you won't, Lieutenant. You hear me?"

The noise Len made was half-groan and half-gasp, and it was entirely beyond his control. "Yes. Yes -- fuck -- yeah, okay, I hear you, oh-- Admiral."

"Good. Because I'm not done with you yet. You're going to be a good little Lieutenant and fuck yourself on my cock until you bring me off, and then, I might -- if I feel like it, if I'm in a good mood -- I _might_ let you come as well. You -- ah -- understand?" The momentary falter revealed that Chris was more affected by this than he was letting on, but his voice still held that command steel that Len would never be able to get enough of.

"Yeah. I understand, sir," said Len, and then he shut up in favor of working himself up and down hard and fast, tightening around Chris with every downstroke. His own shameless, wanton moans echoed in the tiled room, a counterpoint to the furious splashing of the water and Chris's harsh gasping. Chris was close, but not close enough, not yet, and Len redoubled his efforts, feeling the prickle of sweat on his skin even as wet as he already was. Now Chris's breathing had that desperate pitch to it that said he was right on the edge. Thank god, because orders or no orders, Len didn't know how much longer he could hold on before he exploded.

"Fuck -- Lieutenant -- yeah, right there. Yeah, oh god, do that again, so good -- yeah, come on, you're doing so good, I'm so close, come on, just -- like -- Ohhhhh." Chris's voice trailed off into a heartfelt groan as he held himself pressed tight against Len's ass, his hips stuttering as he released himself deep inside of Len.

Len couldn't respond, could barely even think. He was clenching every muscle in his body, fighting uselessly against the tide of his own orgasm as it crashed over him. He fought it even as it was ripped from him, all the more intense for his resistance. He let loose a hoarse cry that he barely recognized as his own.

The force of it left him spent and shaking, and he collapsed backwards into Chris's arms, moaning weakly as Chris arranged their limbs more comfortably, Chris's softening cock slipping free.

"Sorry," was the first thing out of his mouth when he regained the power of speech. "Sorry I couldn't hold on, I -- "

Chris cut him off. "Shhhh, baby, it's okay. It was perfect. You were perfect. So damn beautiful."

"I wanted to wait," said Len mulishly. The _I wanted to please you_ went unsaid, but they both heard it.

"I know you did, honey," Chris soothed. "Fuck, you have no idea how hot it was, you obeying me like that. I couldn't have asked for you to do better. Thank you for that -- for indulging me."

Len didn't know how to respond to that, to any of it, so he just twisted in Chris's arms until they were eye-to-eye, and then he kissed him. They kissed, languid and sweet, for untold minutes, while the water in the now half-empty tub cooled around them. Finally they broke apart with a last tender press of their lips. Len dragged himself up and out of the tub, dried himself off quickly, then kept a steadying hand under Chris's elbow as Chris climbed out too. Chris glared, but it was half-hearted. "I'm not an invalid, Len," he grumbled as Len rubbed him down gently with a fluffy white towel.

Len just chuckled and put some extra towels on the floor to soak up the water they'd flooded the bathroom with. "Nah, that's for next time, when we play 'authoritative doctor and grateful, obedient patient'."

He caught sight of Chris's expression, half-indignant and half-intrigued, and burst into a full belly laugh. God, that felt good. Something twisted inside of him -- a joy so sharp and sweet that it was nearly painful. How could he have ever thought this was a mistake, for either of them?

Chris's voice interrupted Len's woolgathering. "Time for bed, future husband of mine."

Len smiled. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good."

  



	31. Before We Have Our Chat (Part 29 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The further correspondence and journals of Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy. OMG they actually talk. Well, write and then talk. And then write some more. :P

_**Trek Fic: Before We Have Our Chat (Pike/McCoy, NC-17)**_  
 **Title:** Before We Have Our Chat (Part 29 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** Rimming, felching  
 **Word Count:** Around 6200  
 **Summary:** The further correspondence and journals of Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy. OMG they actually talk. Well, write and then talk. And then write some more. :P  
 **A/N:** From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) and [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/): Sorry for the delay on this one - RL kicked both of our asses this past week.

A ZILLION BILLION THANKS AND HUGS TO [](http://fanarts-series.livejournal.com/profile)[**fanarts_series**](http://fanarts-series.livejournal.com/) WHO MADE US THIS GORGEOUS BANNER!!!!!! We love eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet!

*pets pretty banner*

  


  
Dear Len,

Where to start. First of all, I meant what I said in the bath. I don't regret proposing to you. Did it scare me? Shitless. Did it surprise me? Hell yes. I didn't go out there planning on proposing to you. Sure, I have thought about it, but honestly, I figured after your horrific divorce, you wouldn't ever want to get married again. Frankly, I didn't think it was that important to me either. As far as I was concerned, from the moment I added you to the apartment and changed my will, we were forever. I wouldn't have done those things otherwise. I don't need to make it anymore official than we already are, if you've changed your mind. I haven't changed mine.

I agree, we still aren't great at this communication thing. But I _know_ we're getting better. I know there were things you wanted to say to me yesterday. I can tell you were biting your tongue, Len. I'll admit the same on my end, mostly because if you don't like something I'm doing, I want to know about it. I'm not going to be upset if you aren't ready to make changes to this place yet. You told me once that you don't like taking care of things like that. Luckily, I happen to be good at that or have people who can take care of it for me. There is no rush, Len, if you aren't ready. But you have to TELL me and not just nod when I'm rambling on with suggestions of things we can do here. I think you know by now, I'm an impatient bastard. I want things done and I do whatever it takes to make it happen. I'm not going to apologize for that. It's who I am.

You said we needed to lay it all out; well, I can do that. Honestly, I just want you to tell me when you don't like something. Sure, we might fight about it because we're both hot-headed stubborn jackasses -- But I promise you, I'm going to be more upset if you keep hiding how you really feel from me.

Let's start small. There I times that I really hate that you are a doctor. I also realize that makes me sound completely ungrateful since you saved my life, not only once, but twice. It's _really_ hard for me, Len. Sometimes I'm not sure if you are looking at me as patient or as your lover. It has been hard enough dealing with my recovery myself, but it's twice as bad being under your scrutiny too. Philip knows when to back off and does -- You don't, Len. And yes, I'm an idiot at times and do stupid things, but I know my limits. I don't need you coddling me. I think if we're going to avoid any more issues in this regard, it might be wise if you weren't my primary physician anymore. I don't know. I don't want to sound like an ungrateful ass, Len. Reading this paragraph again -- I just don't know. There is part of me that likes knowing that you are looking out for me -- On the other hand, I can give myself my own damn shots.

Next -- Well, I guess it all sort of ties in here. But let me preface it by saying this: We both may be alike in our stubborn, speak-our-mind ways, but we're two very different people. I know we've talked about this before, but I'm a lone wolf, Len. I've always been this way, by choice. I don't know why, but I was just never one to make -- I guess you'd call them bonds. I mean, sure, I guess I'm close to my parents and Annie in some ways, but like I said months ago, I've known Philip since I was eighteen, and he doesn't know even a quarter of the things you know about me. I have never let people get as close to me as you have. There is no reason why, other than I've honestly just never wanted to. I didn't have the need. I've relied on myself, and myself alone, since I left home. I've kept everyone at arm's length, even my family, Len. I don't confide in them. Hell, I don't confide in anyone. And with you -- you've just blown my carefully calculated life right out of the water.

I'm not complaining; God, I don't want you to think I regret any of this. I don't. I don't know what I'd do without you anymore, and -- fuck. That makes me feel weak sometimes. Add in the nightmare of my medical problems and there are times I look in the mirror and I still don't know who I'm looking at anymore. I'm certainly not the same Christopher Pike who took the Enterprise out on that rescue mission two years and four months ago. I don't think I ever will be him again. I'm not necessarily saying that's a bad thing -- Fuck, I don't even know what I'm saying.

You're different. A different creature, if you'll allow me to elucidate. You need other people; you always have. And you're happiest when you are taking care of people. You may scare people with your irritable, cranky demeanor, but bottom line, you have a heart of gold, Len. You've been hurt deeply by things that happened in your life, and you feel safer keeping people at arm's length. You've shut people out who used to be part of your life -- That's obvious from your interaction with Mark and the other doctor I saw you talking to for a few minutes. They looked truly happy to see you. And I think you were happy to see them too, even if it was painful to revisit your past.

Fuck, Len. I did _not_ like it when Mark hugged you. I'm sure you are having a hard time believing that I wasn't the jealous type before, but I swear I wasn't. Possessive, yes. I won't debate that. I guess I've simply never had the need for jealousy before because I never had anyone -- Well, that I couldn't live without or thought I might lose.

Even Jocelyn - If she hadn't been pregnant, that woman would have gotten a piece of my mind. More than a piece. I'm usually not one to judge people, but what when it comes to her, I can't help it. What kind of blind idiot would let you go? I will never understand that in my lifetime. I am grateful for her being a simpleton bitch -- And yes, Len, she is a bitch for what she did to you, no matter what your part in it was.

So I guess that leaves us with Jim. God, Len, I've tried, I've really tried not to let your relationship with him impede ours. I think most of the time I've done a pretty good job of keeping a handle on it. The fact that I care deeply for Jim makes it even harder. When you told me that you'd talked to Jim -- When you said he suggested that we should write these letters to each other... Yes, I'm a bit peeved that you talk to Jim about personal -- well, about us. Because other than Dr. Rossen and Dr. Elliott, I don't talk about you to _anyone_. And hell, I don't even tell _them_ everything. Maybe that's wrong, maybe I should have people -- friends -- I confide in. I don't know. It's just not me, Len. But I have to remind myself that you aren't me, and that you need that.

I guess what I'm saying here is that we talk about forever, but I know -- I _know_ \-- that you aren't going to leave Jim while he's still in space. Part of me is okay with that. I know you two watch each other's backs. I get that -- logically.

Illogically, and as the man who's in love with you -- I worry that you don't need me as much as you need him. I know the relationships are different, but I also know -- Fuck. I worry that I'm just not enough for you. That even if you did leave the Enterprise, and space, to settle somewhere with me when I retire -- I just don't see you being happy, being truly content. You're a doctor, Len. And whether you're ready to admit it or not, I have never seen anyone so well-suited for the job you're doing. And it's not just your job, it's who you are. Me, I'm a Starfleet Captain who would never be truly complete if I couldn't go out and explore the stars once in awhile. I told you I wanted to retire after this tour, but that was -- Well, I just don't think I'm ready yet. Sometimes, I'm not sure I ever will be.

One of my many faults -- well, I consider it a fault, most consider it tactical genius -- is that my mind is always running through every possible scenario. Not just for my job, but even with us. Bottom line, I think too much. I plan too much. I always think if I cover every possible angle, nothing can go wrong. I know it's impossible, but I like having the odds in my favor whenever I can.

I just want to be honest here. I want to marry you, Len. I do want to spend the rest of my life with you. I just don't know if I can give you -- God. I don't know what to say here. There is part of me, when we were standing in front of the room that would be the nursery -- well, there was part of me that wanted to turn around and tell you I'd give it all up right now to have that with you. And I know we could have a great life, having a kid or two, living here or in Mojave -- but there is a part of me that knows myself, and pretty sure, you too, and that life, as beautiful as it would be... It would never really be enough. For either of us. At least not anytime soon.

So I guess what I'm saying -- Hell, I want it all with you, Len, without either one of us having to give up what we love. I know relationships are all about compromise -- But families are all about compromise too. We certainly wouldn't be the first couple to have kids and be in space at times. Look at how well Philip and Allen made it work all this time. Look at how amazing all their kids are. They've all turned out incredibly well only having one parent, or sometimes even no parent, at home. I'm not saying this is our only option, but I can't stop thinking about how adamant you were when you said you'd never have a kid, and leave to go back into space afterward. Or anywhere.

You followed Jim into space. I have to wonder, would you follow me if that's where I decided to stay?

I love you, Len. More than you will ever know. I want to believe that there is a solution that will give us both everything we want -- without losing ourselves in the process.

I'd marry you today, tomorrow, or whenever you're ready, Len. I don't ever want you to doubt that.

Forever yours,  
Chris

  
Dear Chris,

God damn, this is awkward. You're sitting right over there, across the room from me, typing away and I'm here doing the same. And I'm shit-scared of what's in your comm, and even more scared of how you're going to take what's in mine. Well, as Jim always says, might as well jump in with both feet. And that brings me right into what I wanted to talk to you about. Jim.

Shit. I don't even know what I want to say, or how to say it. You're still jealous of him, I can feel it in my bones. You know, I actually say "bones" a lot, in one expression or another. It's part of why he stuck me with that godawful name. But I feel self-conscious when I say the word around you, even in casual conversation, because I feel like that nickname and what it represents -- my friendship with Jim -- is something that bothers you. A lot more than you let on.

I don't even like to mention him in front of you anymore because of that look you get, like you've just taken a bite of something nasty at a diplomatic dinner but you're damned if you're going to let on that you didn't like it, and you can't spit it out, so you're just going to force yourself to choke it down. You had that expression just today, when I told you that I'd talked to Jim. As I said, he'd already seen the news about our engagement in the headlines before he got my messages, and when I mentioned that that bothered me and that I didn't feel like I could talk to you about it, he suggested that we write to each other, even if we were in the same room. It was a good idea, Chris. You know it was. We've always been good at communicating in letters. But you're pissed off because he's the one who suggested it, or because I talked to him about us, or something.

Jim used to look up to you like a father, and I know you used to look at him like a son. Now you see him as a rival or a potential threat, and it's going to destroy the relationship you two have, if it's not already damaged beyond repair. Chris, that's killing me. For both of your sakes. It's the one thing I was most afraid of when we started this, and we all said we wouldn't let it happen, and now look at us.

There's a part of me that thinks you're rushing us toward marriage because you want to stake some sort of claim on me, like you're pissing on a tree in your territorial war with Jim. It's not a contest, Chris. If you make it one, we're all going to lose.

All right. I don't know what else to say about that. I'm fresh out of ideas on how to handle it so if you've got any, I'm open to suggestions.

The second thing, and this is trickier, because... well, I don't know exactly how to express what I want or what's bothering me. It has to do with this house. I know I told you I wanted to fix the place up, and I do, but -- well, I think maybe it's tougher than I thought I would be, to contemplate making changes here. You're so excited about it that I haven't wanted to be a wet blanket, and I don't want you to think that I'm ungrateful because, Chris, you have no idea how grateful I am that you've done what you've done for the place so far, and that you want to do more. Just, well, maybe can we slow it down a bit?

Damn it, I hate this. Next issue, the press. I haven't lived under the microscope for as long as you have, so maybe I'll feel differently about it as time goes by. But right now, honestly, Chris, I don't give a damn what the 'nets are saying about us. I'm not ashamed. I'm not ashamed of you, or of who I am, or of what we are to each other. Let them take their pictures. Let them follow us around. Let them see us kissing or holding hands or eating or whatever the hell they want. I don't care. To be embarrassingly honest, I kind of get off on it -- I've already told you about my exhibitionist streak. Yeah, obviously I want private time with you also. But with the way you and your family focus on the press coverage of us and our relationship -- Chris, it makes me feel like you're ashamed of me, like I'm a dirty little secret you want to cover up, or like I'm not good enough to be linked publicly to the Pike name. As I write this, I know damn well I'm overreacting and letting my insecurities get the better of me. But if we're unburdening, I might as well do it right, so I'm putting it out there.

All right. Now for the grand finale. I'm sure this isn't going to come as a surprise to you, but I've been worrying about what we're going to do for our future together. When are we going to get married? Are you going to want me to leave the Enterprise? How many more tours are you planning on doing? Where are we going to live? Where will kids fit into this picture? I don't know the answer to any of these questions, and I know you don't either, but we need to at least talk about some of these things, even if we don't make any decisions yet.

Wait, I was wrong. That wasn't the last thing. TAKE CARE OF YOUR GODDAMN HEALTH, CHRIS. I swear to god, if I have to hire a babysitter to follow you around on the Exeter and make sure you're taking your goddamn meds, I'll do it.

I love you, Chris. I love you so damn much that I'm willing to sit here, feeling like a fool, writing all this awkward and embarrassing shit down in a comm to you. I just look at you sometimes and I can't believe how lucky I am to be with you. No one's perfect, me least of all, but I want this to work. I want it more than anything, and I think if we both want it, we can figure it out together. What I'm trying to say is, come hell or high water, I'm in this with you, as long as you'll have me. I'm yours, Chris, and you're mine. That's how it is, and as far as I'm concerned that's how it'll always be.

Forever,  
Len

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**

_Saturday 2260.181_

Huh. Let's see. Where should I start?

Well, Jim finally commed me. It was good to hear his voice. He had his comm turned off for a few days, so he saw the news about the engagement from the 'nets. Then he checked his comm, got my messages and called. He seemed so happy for me and Chris, and acted really excited about the engagement. He said of course he's going to be my best man, and that he's already planning an epic bachelor party and writing his toast for the wedding. I'm sure both of those things are going to utterly horrify me. But underneath it, he seemed kind of sad. I'm not sure what's going on in that idiot's head but I'm going to find out as soon as I get my own head on a little straighter.

I apologized for not being able to tell him the news in person before he found out from the 'nets, and he waved it off, but I think it bothered him as much as it bothered me. I told him about the deal with the press and how Chris's family wanted to announce it right away to head off some of the headlines we've been getting, but that I wished they'd waited and that I was kicking myself for not having been more insistent with Chris about that. There's a lot that we've both been holding back, I think, because we have so little time together and we don't want to spend it fighting. Jim had a really good suggestion, for me and Chris to write to each other about things that we feel like we can't say out loud.

When I told Chris about it, he got that pinched, sour look he always gets these days when I mention Jim, but he agreed it was a good idea. So we did it, sat down in the sun room and typed out comms to each other. God damn, that was bizarre and awkward.

Then we read each other's comms. I don't think there were too many surprises there, but still I have to admit it was tough. Particularly when I read that Chris doesn't want me to be his doctor any longer. I understand why, and of course I'll honor his wishes. It hurts, though. And I still don't trust him to take his meds. That's not related to me being a doctor, that's just me being his partner and knowing that he has a habit of neglecting his health. So even if I'm not on his medical team, I'm not going to stop nagging him about that. I don't think anything short of death could make me stop doing that.

I had to snort at the fact that Chris seems to think I'm some sort of social butterfly who needs a large circle of friends. It's true that I have more connections than he does -- other than family, since he's got a huge family and I've got basically none -- but since he's about the most self-reliant person I've ever met, that's really not saying much. In terms of close ties, I've got him and I've got Jim, and that's about it. I have colleagues that I spend (or used to spend) time with - Mark, Nyota, Christine, and even, god help me, Spock. Maybe a few more -- Clay and Jocelyn, once upon a time, of course. But none of them are what I'd call confidantes. I get where he's coming from, though. It's really goddamn flattering that I'm the only one who knows the true Chris, and I can see why he'd want to feel that way about me. The only way to give him that, though, would be to cut Jim clean out of my life, and I'm just not willing to do that.

So, Jim. He seems to be the crux of all this. I'm pretty much at a loss what to do about it. He's my best friend, and he's been abandoned by everyone he's ever cared about, everyone who should have loved him, and I'll be damned if I do the same thing to him. But, well, I'm old-fashioned, and I've always believed that your first and foremost loyalty is to your spouse. Jim is my family, though, and you don't walk out on family. I don't have any idea what to do about that conflict.

I know the "logical" thing to do would be to transfer to the Exeter once I marry Chris. But honestly, I can't see that ending well. Chris doesn't want me as his treating physician, and as CMO that would be my primary duty. And I'm equally sure I wouldn't enjoy having him as my direct commanding officer. I shudder to think of the fights that would erupt. But he's not ready to give up space yet, and I've got to admit, I'm kind of enjoying my job too. So all in all, I think we're where we're meant to be right now. The separation is hard. Really hard. But I don't see any good alternative. After this tour, who knows. But so many things could change between now and then that I'm not sure it makes sense to make a firm plan for what we're going to do three years down the road.

Anyway, after I read his letter, and he read mine, we just kind of looked at each other for a minute. Then he held his arms open for me and went and straddled him on the armchair he was in. We didn't say anything, just kissed and held each other for a bit. The inevitable happened and we both started getting hard. So I undid his pants, he undid mine, and we stroked each other while we kissed and moaned into each other's mouths. I think we just both needed that feeling of connection. His cock is beautiful, sleek and strong just like he is. I love knowing that it's mine, that I'm the only one who gets to see it and touch it. And having his hand on me, watching his long fingers wrap around me and work me in exactly the way I like it best -- well, that's just as incredible. It didn't take long until we were both coming, making a mess between us. Chris ran his fingers through it, then nudged my lips with his fingertips. I sucked our come off of his fingers and he watched me with such a look of satisfaction, possession, and love on his face. Then I did the same for him, and his eyes stayed locked with mine as he sucked every drop off of my fingers. I don't know what my face looked like but I'm sure it was goddamn revealing, judging by the way he smiled at me, so open and pleased.

Then he said "So, I guess we should talk." I agreed, and tried to get up from his lap, but he just tightened his arms around me and wouldn't let me go. So I settled back in, and we talked while I was cuddled on his lap in the armchair, both of us still with our pants open and our semen drying on our bodies. It was kind of ridiculous, but it was probably a good idea, because I think it made us both more aware of each other's vulnerability, a bit more careful in how we said things.

We didn't really come to any conclusions, but I'm not sure that any of these issues are going to be resolved anytime soon. At least we're talking about them, and I guess that's progress. It was pretty obvious that Chris was exhausted after talking for a while, so I asked him if he wanted to take a nap. Actually _asked_ him, didn't just order him. He admitted that was a good idea, so he's upstairs sleeping and I'm writing this. He asked me to wake him after an hour, though, and it's almost been that long, so I'll end this for now.

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike**

_Saturday 2260.181_

I'm supposed to be napping. Fuck, I really am starting to hate that word. Truth is, I'm tired, but have too much on my mind right now to be able to sleep. Maybe after I get a few things off my mind I'll be able to.

It's not even lunchtime yet and this day has been, well, eventful. It started with the early morning beeping of Len's comm. Granted, it was after 0800, but after our fun in the tub last night -- well, we went to bed, but we certainly didn't go to sleep for a few hours. It started innocently enough, we curled up on our sides facing each other. I think we both needed to be able to see each other, even in the dark with just the moonlight shining through the window.

What we didn't say with words, we said with our eyes. For long minutes, we simply stared at each other, before his hand moved and started running through my hair. I cupped his cheek, brushing my thumb across his mouth. When he kissed it and sighed, I moved forward and kissed him.

I don't know how long we spent kissing, our mouths fused, barely separating to breathe. It was lazy, and endless, our hands touching each other's faces reverently. When he whispered my name across my lips, my cock twitched and I moved my hand down to his hips to pull him closer.

Legs tangled and hands wandered until Len pulled back and told me he needed to taste me. He kissed me once more and moved down, kissing down my stomach as he went, his tongue pausing in certain places, sucking and biting at my skin. He kept me on my side, holding my ass firmly with one hand.

When he reached my groin, he moved his hand between my legs and urged the top one to rest on his shoulder. Before I even had my leg settled, he took one of my balls into his mouth and then licked up slowly before swallowing my dick. I honestly didn't know if I would come again so soon, but fuck, then he started fingering my ass, playing and teasing me mercilessly, but not penetrating me. Shit, it was torture and he was driving me crazy. It didn't take more than a few minutes before I came in his mouth.

I needn't have worried about the lack of penetration. Before I could catch my breath, he had flipped me over onto my stomach and reached over and grabbed the lube off the nightstand. Of course, I nearly -- okay, I'll admit I may have screamed when instead of the lubed finger I expected, he spread my cheeks and licked a long slow swipe from bottom to top. And when his tongue pressed in, I grabbed a pillow and buried my face in it, muffling the ridiculous sounds that were coming from my throat.

He pushed my legs apart, and slid his lubed thumb inside, stretching me some, but not completely. He knows how I like it. He knows I like it best when I'm not fully stretched. I love the feel of his cock opening me up -- The pain, the burn. Fuck. I'm getting hard again just thinking about it. He moved in between my legs and shoved inside. He braced himself on his elbows on each side of my shoulders and -- Fuck, whoever came up with the phrase 'fucked into the mattress' had it right -- He did. Literally. Quick harsh strokes, pressing me into the bed, his breath hot on my shoulder.

My shoulder still has a bite mark from where he bit down hard when he came. He stayed a moment catching his breath. Then he started kissing my neck, my shoulders, and then down my sweat-slicked body. And if that hadn't been enough, he started licking his come out of my ass. I buried my face in the pillow again -- There were words and sounds and expletives coming out of my mouth that didn't even make sense. I got hard again, and literally started humping the mattress as he licked and sucked at my hole until I came for the third time that night -- it may have been weak, but fuck. Just fuck.

Jesus, how am I supposed to nap now? I'm all riled up again thinking about last night. I'm not going to jerk off though, because I think later today, it's time for me to take Len into his childhood bedroom and do all those things I promised. Yeah, thinking about that now is really helping my hard-on. Jesus, Chris, get your mind out of the gutter. Fuck, now I'm talking to myself in my own journal. Dr. Rossen would have a field day with this, I'm sure.

So -- where was I before I took a detour through the porn zone? Fuck, I'm really losing it.

Jim. The comm that went off at 0800 was Jim finally getting in touch with Len. Once Len answered, he immediately got out of bed, grabbed his jeans and left the room. It was so abrupt; he didn't even look at me, just answered, told Jim to hold on a minute, and fled the room. I did not like that. One bit.

A minute later I heard the screen door open and close. I got out of bed and looked out the window of our bedroom. And sure enough, Len was outside pacing back and forth along the front walk. What's worse, he was smiling. God, reading back through this paragraph makes me sound like a first-rate asshole. Not that it isn't true. I swear I don't want to feel like this. I wish it didn't bother me so much. I know that Jim isn't going to take Len away from me. I know that Len certainly isn't going to leave me for Jim. I _know_ these things. Doesn't mean it still doesn't eat at me and I hate it.

In fact, I would say that my jealousy of Jim is probably the biggest problem in our relationship. I honestly thought I had a handle on it. Most of the time, I still think I do. But damn it, when Len said that Jim had suggested we write letters to each other if we were having problems communicating -- I'm honestly surprised I was able to control what was I was thinking and didn't say something that would have made the entire situation worse. Plus, admitting that Jim had a good idea -- Fuck. I really hate that Len confides in Jim about us. That Jim _knows_ when something is bothering Len, even when they're thousands of miles apart. That's supposed to be _my_ job, and most of the time I completely fail him in that regard.

And Len is right, what he said in his letter to me. My relationship with Jim certainly isn't the same as it was. I don't think it ever will be. And that actually does hurt me. I still don't know what the answer is. I need to do something, though, because I obviously can't hide from Len how I feel about the entire situation anymore. I just need to fucking grow up and get over it. I'm fifty-four years old and jealous of a twenty-seven year old who not only got my ship, but -- Fuck. I can't even believe I'm going to type this, but I know that Len would drop everything -- do anything for Jim. And fuck, I know he'd do the same for me. He _has_ done the same for me. That should be enough. More than enough. But it's not. I'm a selfish asshole who wants -- Fuck, I want him to be willing to do that for me, and _only_ me.

Well, I don't have to worry about being hard anymore. Writing that out certainly took care of _that_ problem.

Len and I did talk, though. Nothing was really solved, and nothing in the letters really surprised either of us. Well, except for what I said about Len not being my doctor anymore, but that -- that was said in a moment of frustration on my part. I don't really mean it, as much as I just need some space. I realize that he would be just as concerned as my partner, as I would for him if the situation were reversed, but with him, he's _never_ not a doctor. I don't think he realizes it sometimes, because it's just him. Just like it's hard for me not to be in command. After we talked about that, he understood a bit more where I'm coming from, and I think we can work out a compromise on that issue.

The rest -- the rest of the issues are really pretty insignificant in the grand scheme of things, and once again, it goes back to our failure to communicate with each other. We've put the horses and the bigger changes here on hold for now. We are going to have Annie finish restoring and renovating the main house, and she'll handle converting one of the outbuildings to serve as caretakers' quarters when Len's ready. He promises to tell me when he is.

The press -- I realize he's not so much upset with that as much as how I didn't even ask him about announcing it. Again, it comes back to my need to just take care of everything. I really am sorry that Jim had to find out from the press. I do regret that, because I know it hurt both of them. That's not what I wanted. And if I had just taken a moment and _asked_ Len before my mother did her thing -- A day or two wouldn't have made a difference.

We're okay though. We're better than okay. I want to believe we're learning from our mistakes -- Maybe not as quick as either of us would like, but we'll get there.

Surprisingly, I'm feeling pretty sleepy now, so I'm going to rest. I'll need all the strength I can get if I'm going to take Len to his childhood bedroom this afternoon.

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)

Bones!

Shore leave sucks. I'm going home. Just wanted to let you know so you'd stop worrying.

Jim

p.s. When you get the hospital report, IT WASN'T MY FAULT.

  
  



	32. They Said "It Would Be Grand!" (Part 30 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The further correspondence Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy. And some other people too!

_**Trek Fic: They Said "It Would Be Grand!" (Pike/McCoy, PG)**_  
 **Title:** They Said "It Would Be Grand!" (Part 30 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** Disappointingly PG  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** Around 3500  
 **Summary:** The further correspondence Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy. And some other people too!  
 **A/N:** From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) and [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/): Here's a (we hope) fun shorter section to make up for the fact that we were so late with the last section. Also, for those of you keeping track of these things, we are invoking our AU rule here. In TOS, you had to be "demoted" to Captain to take command of a ship. We feel, because of the losses at Vulcan, Pike is not the only Admiral who has taken re-command of a ship. Therefore, he is NOT losing his rank of Admiral, but when addressed by his crew and on his ship, he is still Captain. And if you actually made it far in this a/n: the next part has **SUPER PERVY KINKY SEX**. Ha, that got your attention, didn't it?

  


To: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Jim,

You were in the hospital? You goddamned idiot, what did you do this time? Are you all right? Is everyone else involved all right? Because there's always someone else involved -- lord help the fools who get caught up in your wake, and that includes me.

I checked your Starfleet med file -- there's nothing in there yet so I'm assuming you weren't in a Starfleet facility. Who are the morons who treated you? Did they prescribe anything and if so, do they know about all of your allergies? Whatever it is, don't take it until I get a chance to double-check it against my file on you and your screwy immune system.

Where are you now? Do you need me to go there? You need a damn keeper. I let you out of my sight for two weeks and you go and get yourself hospitalized. On earth, the one place where you should be able to keep yourself out of trouble.

Comm me, you jackass, or I'm going to find out where you are and show up. And trust me, NONE of us will be happy if I have to do that.

Bones

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)

Bones,

I'm FINE. I'm home. Since I'm an idiot and a jackass, what does it matter?

Jim

  
To: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Jim,  
I've had just about enough of your shit. When I get back to San Francisco, I'm going to get some answers out of you, even if I have to strap you to a biobed and hypo your ass with truth serum. Don't think I won't. You're my best friend, you infant. I _care_ about you. More fool me, apparently.  
Bones

To: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Damn it, Jim,

Chris just turned on the newsnets and we heard about the avalanche in Tibet. I hate to say this, but you were right - it wasn't your fault. _This time._ Although why am I not surprised that you immediately volunteered for the rescue effort? Gotta say, the footage of you pulling an armful of puppies out of the wreckage of that building was just _adorable_.

Anyway, I'm damn glad you're all right, and that you didn't have anything more serious than a bit of frostbite. I'll see you Wednesday at HQ.

Bones

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)

Bones,

I'm not sure if that was an apology or not, but I'll take it as one. I don't think I'll ever feel warm again. I thought Delta Vega was bad, but at least I was dressed for it there. Think a good bottle of whiskey would help? Bring one back with you and I just might forgive you.

I'm dead tired, Bones. I don't think you're supposed to feel like that at the end of shore leave.

Jim

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Nyota Uhura (nuhura@starfleet.gov)

Leonard:

I can't believe you didn't comm me to tell me you were getting engaged! I had to find out from the 'nets, and then I called Christine and told her the news - luckily for your sake, she hadn't heard yet. There will be consequences, though. And by that, I mean a party. I don't want to hear a word about it. Just smile and nod and let us do our thing, or you _will_ regret it.

Best,  
Nyota

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: S'chin T'gai Spock (stspock@starfleet.gov)

Admiral Pike:

Nyota informs me that it is customary among humans to send congratulations when an acquaintance or colleague becomes engaged to be married. I have always respected you and I believe that we worked well together when I was under your command. I admire your professionalism and your avoidance of excessive emotionalism.

Therefore, I offer my felicitations to you. It is to be hoped that you will be a beneficial influence upon Dr. McCoy, and that his tendency towards emotional volatility does not prove an undue aggravation to you.

Sincerely,  
Commander Spock

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Willa E. Pike (willa.e.pike@googlemail.com)

Hi Sweetheart,

I hope you and Leonard are enjoying your last weekend of shore leave. We need to discuss the engagement party. While I would prefer to have it this summer, I know that's not feasible. Your father suggested you both take a short personal leave and hire a ship to bring you home for a few days. I was thinking the first weekend of November would be splendid and wouldn't interfere with anyone's holiday plans.

If this is possible, please let me know ASAP. I need to be able to secure the appropriate location and a first rate caterer.

Love,  
Mom

P.S. We're heading to Sante Fe in the morning for a friend's show this week. Annie is meeting us there. Comm us at the house if you have time.

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Philip Boyce (pboyce@starfleet.gov)

Chris!

I was so happy to get your voicecomm with the news of your engagement. I'm sorry I wasn't there to answer it, and we had forwarding off. Allen and I have been in the Seychelles and we just returned home to San Francisco. Congratulations to both of you. Allen and I are just absolutely thrilled for both of you. Of course I'll be your best man, and I'll let Allen answer you on being a groomsman himself when he's back from playing basketball with Txanton.

I'll see you Wednesday for Federation Day. If you and Leonard have time this week, we'd love to either have you over to dinner to celebrate, or take you out.

I'm so happy for you, Chris. You've waited a long time for this. I'm so glad to see you so happy. You deserve it.

Philip

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Kianna R. Boyce (kboyce@starfleet.gov)

Dear Uncle Chris:

I might have done something very unbecoming of a future Starfleet officer when I got your comm about your engagement. I screamed. Remember when I used to get all excited about the data chips you'd sneak me of my favourite singer Rob Manson Bieber that my dads wouldn't let me listen to? Yeah, like that. You used to tell me you were deaf for days after. At least you weren't around to hear this time. My roommate was not amused.

I'm honored that you asked me to be an attendant. Well, as long as the dress isn't ugly. I'm assuming Auntie Willa is taking care of those details though, so I'm not worried. I'm so excited!!!

I can't wait to see you on Wednesday. I'm going to give you and Len the big hugs I would have given you in person if you'd been there when I got the news.

Love,  
Kianna

p.s. Does this mean I'll get to dance with Captain Kirk at the reception? Isn't that like a rule or something that the best man dance with all the attendants?

To: Willa E. Pike (willa.e.pike@googlemail.com)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Mom,

I'll have to talk to Len about this first. It might be logistically impossible as the Exeter is going to be in deep space. Len wouldn't be as difficult to get home, but I'll have to let you know. I'll see if I can move the scheduled supply stop to make it coordinate, but we may need to wait until next year.

I'll let you know as soon as I can.

Love you, Mom. Give my love to Grandma and Dad.

Your son,  
Christopher

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Richard Barnett (rbarnett@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

I was so happy to get your vidcomm about your engagement! It's about time you found someone right for you for once. Yeah, this is where I say I told you so about every other disaster of a relationship you've had in the thirty-five years I've known you.

Honestly though, Annette and I couldn't be happier for you. Dr. McCoy is a brilliant man and I could tell from the moment you two started seeing each other that it was going to be something special. I've never seen you like that with anyone.

Looking forward to seeing you this week. I blocked an extra hour out of our meeting schedules on Friday so we can have a longer lunch and catch up. We'll talk then about what I can do to help.

Sincerely,  
Richard

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)

Hey old man!

Congrats! Glad you're finally making an honest man out of my best friend. Sorry I didn't write sooner. I had some problems getting home. Next shore leave, I don't think I'm leaving my assigned quarters. Maybe I'll just take a virtual trip instead. I hear you can be knocked out the entire time and have a perfect vacation that way. Can't be any worse than the one I had.

See you on Wednesday. I sent you guys back a case of wine these monks in Tibet make in a giant indoor vineyard. It should be waiting for you at your place when you get home. I'm sure it's not on the same tier as what your family makes in real soil, but it's really interesting to watch them make it.

Jim

To: Annie Michaels (housesbyannie@applemail.com)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Annie,

We need to slow down a bit on the house stuff. Len isn't quite ready. He agreed to go ahead with renovations on the main house, but I think we'll hold off on anything else for awhile. I would suggest you comm him and maybe let him know what you had in mind for different rooms. I think he'll be more receptive to you than me.

Also, please try to slow my mom and grandmother down with the wedding stuff. God bless them, but if I get another comm from her or my grandmother asking about colors of the dresses for the attendants... Well, considering right now it's just you and Kianna to worry about in that respect -- Just help me, Annie, before the guest list is in the thousands. I told her small. Small is not eight hundred guests.

I'm starting to wonder how Len would feel about eloping. God help us all.

Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Allen Maxwell (amaxwell@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

So excited to get your news when we returned from vacation. Please pass on my congratulations to Len as well.

Kianna has commed me about twenty times since we got home yesterday. She's slightly excited about being in another wedding.

I'll be honored to be your groomsman, Chris. It will be a good excuse to dance with my daughter. She certainly wouldn't be seen with me otherwise doing any such thing. Remember when I used to hang the moon to her? As much as I hate that my baby is growing up, I will be glad to put the teenage years behind me.

I hope you and Len have time to visit with us before you leave. I'm heading back to my starbase on Tuesday, so even if you both can't make it since I know Len is leaving sooner, we should at least have lunch.

Blessings,  
Allen

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Mark Keller (mkeller@stjosephatl.org)

McCoy!

I saw the news! Congrats, man! I'm really happy for you. You deserve some happiness after the hell that was your last two years here. I was glad to see you again, and let's keep in touch this time, all right?

Supper is on me next time you and Chris are in these parts!

Take care and be safe,  
Mark

To: Willa E. Pike (willa.e.pike@googlemail.com)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Mom,

I talked to Len and then checked our mission plan. The only way I'd be able to get home would be during our supply stop the second week of October. I'd only be able to be there two days, three at the most. Honestly, I don't think Len will be comfortable with a big shindig. And truthfully, neither will I. Something small with immediate family and friends is what I'd prefer.

Also, we'll probably only come to Florida one day, for the party. I'd like to be able to spend a couple of days alone with Len back in Mojave. I know you understand. I promise next time I'm home, I'll visit longer.

I should be able to firm up the dates with Starfleet when I'm back there next week. I'll let you know by Friday.

I know you like to throw parties, Mom, but please respect our wishes on this one.

Have a great trip.

All my love,  
Christopher

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Annie Michaels (housesbyannie@applemail.com)

Chris,

I had a feeling things were moving too fast for Len. I almost said something; I know how you are. I know you mean well, but let me handle this, okay? Let it settle until you're both back in space and I'll comm him and we'll start small.

The property management company that the estate lawyer was using is going to continue to monitor the property, along with the security firm you hired. I plan on going out there after my trip to Santa Fe with your parents to close it all up. I kept all the drop-cloths that were salvageable and had already purchased more before I left last time. All you guys need to do is lock it up when you go; I'll take care of the rest.

I'll do what I can with Willa and Kathleen, but you know how they are. It's impossible to get them to reason. At least you can use being millions of light years away as an excuse.

Let me know if you need anything else. Behave yourself!

Love,  
Annie

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Ayumi Sato (asato@starfleet.gov)

Captain Pike,

I want to offer my congratulations on your engagement. I will confess, it was a surprise. I wouldn't have thought a man of your intellect would subscribe to such an archaic tradition. Nevertheless, it is obvious that Dr. McCoy makes you happy and I wish you both the best.

Have you set a date yet? I read this morning that there will be an engagement party in the fall. Does that mean the mission plan for the Exeter will be changing from what I received from headquarters last week?

Looking forward to seeing you at the festivities for Federation Day on Wednesday, sir. As you know, everything is proceeding on plan for our departure on 2260.193.

Regards,  
Commander Sato

To: Ayumi Sato (asato@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Commander Sato,

Thank you for your congratulations, although they were not necessary. I _have_ been married before, Commander; I would have thought you were aware of that.

We have not set a date yet, but yes, there will be a party thrown by my parents in the fall. It will coincide with our scheduled stop at Starbase Valera for re-supply and shore leave for the crew and I'll be taking a personal ship home for no more than three days.

Since I'm sure you're wondering, my marriage will not interrupt my command, nor do I plan on leaving the Exeter during this tour, or the next. Dr. McCoy will remain CMO on the Enterprise after our marriage.

We will be beaming into Starfleet Headquarters bright and early on Wednesday morning. I will see you at the command crew meeting I have on the schedule for 0730 before the festivities begin at 0900.

Captain Pike

To: Annie Michaels (housesbyannie@applemail.com)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Annie,

Behave myself? I'll have you know I have impeccable manners from the finest schools on the planet. Oh wait, I forgot who I'm talking to. You know better.

I'm an idiot, Annie. And the harder I try to not do something stupid, the worse it seems to get. There are times I wish you were ten years older than me instead of ten years younger so you could tell me how many times my parents dropped me on my head. I'm guessing _a lot_ , but when I ask mom, she just gives me that look.

Okay, so I'm an idiot _and_ an asshole. I've been alone too long and have been too used to doing things my way and I have no idea how to be otherwise. I don't know why he puts up with me, honestly.

I'm going to turn the comm unit here at the house off and put mine on priority only. And no, my parents do not have the code for that. I'll check messages at least once a day, but I'm finishing up work right now and not dealing with anything I don't have to until we leave early Wednesday morning. I'll comm Wednesday afternoon and check in with you and my parents. Grandma probably won't talk to me for a week after this, but it's needed before he changes his mind and decides to dump my stupid ass.

Thanks, Annie. I'm lucky as hell to have you.

Love,  
Chris

  
To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christine Chapel (cchapel@starfleet.gov)

Dear Leonard:

I heard the wonderful news from Nyota. Congratulations! Dare I hope that this will improve your bedside manner? No, I didn't think so.

Nyota wanted to throw you a big bash but I convinced her to keep it small. I told her you'd hate anything big and elaborate. She said "I know," and the look on her face was pure evil. Next time, if you've got news, tell her before she finds out from the 'nets! She's hell on wheels when she's pissed off.

Of course I am too, just about different things. I've got the medical supply stores arranged exactly how I like them, so when you get back to the Enterprise don't even _think_ about messing it up.

Give Admiral Pike my best and tell him that if he hurts you, he'll have both Nyota and me to contend with, and he won't enjoy it a bit. Of course, that goes for you too - don't screw this up or you'll answer to us.

Take care,  
Christine

  
To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Jocelyn Treadway (jocelyn@opalgallery.com)

Dear Len:

I just heard about your engagement. Congratulations. You and Admiral Pike are obviously very well-suited.

I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for my part in the way things went between us at the end. And if it means anything to you, I've forgiven you for your part in it. We were both doing the best we could; it just wasn't enough.

I guess everything happens for a reason, though, because I can see that you're happier now than you ever were with me. I know we'll never be friends again, but I hope we can at least find some peace between us.

Don't worry about writing back. I don't want to put you in an awkward position. Just - take care of yourself, all right?

Jocelyn

To: Christine Chapel (cchapel@starfleet.gov)  
From: Nyota Uhura (nuhura@starfleet.gov)

Christine:

Spock's going to pull some strings to get us the Starfleet ambassadorial suite for the party. It's got a nice cozy area for giving small private parties. I think it'll be perfect. And do not even _ask_ what I had to promise Spock to get him to talk to his father so we could get that room. Leonard had better appreciate this, is all I'm saying.

Thanks for sending over the personal comm addresses for the medbay staff. I'll contact them and the bridge crew, plus Scotty and Gaila. Anyone else we should invite?

You're in charge of food and decorations. Those kind of details give me hives.

Later, babe,  
Nyota

To: Nyota Uhura (nuhura@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christine Chapel (cchapel@starfleet.gov)

Nyota, sweetie,

Don't worry, I won't ask what you had to promise Spock. In fact, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not think about it too hard. Did I ever tell you I had a terrible crush on him at the Academy? God, it's so embarrassing to think about it now. That was before I knew you, of course. Anyway, I promise, I'm totally over it. I've got my eye on other game now.

I'm on top of the food and decorations. Sulu and Chekov are bringing booze, so you know there will be plenty. We'll just have to make sure it doesn't devolve into drunken debauchery. Hmm, maybe we should water the drinks?

See you Wednesday.

Love,  
Christine

  



	33. All in a Golden Afternoon (Part 30a of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know how Chris promised he'd take Len in his childhood bed? Yeah, that.

_**Trek Fic: All in a Golden Afternoon (Pike/McCoy, NC-17)**_  
 **Title:** All in a Golden Afternoon (Part 30a of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Author:** [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/). This one was too kinky for Jude. Seriously, she couldn't even read it; she had to skim it with one eye squinched closed. :p  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17 LIEKWOAH  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** BDSM, watersports, unlikely refractory periods  
 **Word Count:** Around 5000 words of filthy, filthy smut.  
 **Summary:** You know how Chris promised he'd take Len in his childhood bed? Yeah, that.  
 **A/N:** **SUPER PERVY KINKY SEX**. As promised. \o/ or /o\? You be the judge.

  


  
It starts slow, just like Chris had promised it would. Both of them fully dressed, jeans and t-shirts already somewhat damp with perspiration in the sultry heat of a Georgia summer afternoon. Chris leads Len to his old bedroom, holding his hand, smiling but with intent in his eyes. Len pauses just inside the room, resisting for a moment the tug on his hand. The afternoon sun filters through the shutter slats, leaving bars of light and shadow on the floor. He remembers, as a child, sitting on the scrubbed pine floor and using those shifting lines in solitary games of marbles or toy soldiers.

The same holoposters are still on his walls, and the furniture is exactly as he remembers it. Slightly battered oak antique dresser with ornate iron pulls, a cherrywood desk with rounded claw feet, and the white-painted bed where he'd dreamed for so many years. None of it matches, and none of it matches _him_ , not anymore. It's like a photograph -- a still life of how he used to be, and being in here gives him the uneasy feeling of treading on things that are best left undisturbed.

But he knows, somewhere deep down, that hiding from the past, pretending it doesn't exist, isn't the answer either, and he trusts Chris in this as in all things. So he makes no objection when Chris lays him down on the dust-blue quilt and then climbs into the bed beside him, taking Len into his arms until there's no space between them, no air to breathe but each other's.

Chris looks into his eyes first, as if to check that he's all right, that he's present there with Chris and not lost to the phantoms of the past. Len focuses and gives all his attention to Chris, looking into gray-blue eyes the same color as the quilt that sheltered and warmed him as a child. Now Chris is his shelter and his warmth. They keep their eyes locked as Chris leans in, brushes slightly-chapped lips against his. Len releases a small sigh and feels the warmth and moisture of it settle there between them.

He lets go, then. Closes his eyes and lets himself drift, absorbing the scent of his old bedroom, wood polish and musty fabric and magnolia blossoms and red clay earth. It reaches into him, pulls out memories and feelings that he thought he'd left behind. He starts to panic -- he's going to get lost here, he won't be able to find his way out -- but then Chris kisses him again, gently, and he can feel Chris all around him, and he knows he's safe. Chris won't let him fade away into the shadows.

He's never lain with anyone in this bed before. He's thought about it though, plenty of times. When he was a little boy and had a nightmare, he'd wish that his mother would come down the hallway from her room, slide under the covers in her linen nightdress, and hold him close until the trembling stopped. She'd just know that he needed her -- he wouldn't have to creep down the creaky, dark hallway to his parents' bedroom, push the door open slowly, and admit his cowardice. He wouldn't have to hear his father telling him that big boys weren't scared of things that happened in dreams and that he had to go back to his bed -- a bed that felt so big and empty -- all alone.

When he was a teenager, he'd think about how it would feel to have a girl here in this bed with him. Their bodies were so mysterious. Rounded thighs, pert breasts, soft perfumed skin. He'd touch himself and think about what it would be like to have all of that feminine beauty to explore with hands and mouth and cock.

Sometimes he'd think about boys, too. Well, if he's honest with himself, he'd think about men. He was never really interested in any of the boys his age -- they were too crass, too callow. He never saw the appeal in crude jokes about anatomy or in belching the alphabet. Boys his age mostly made him want to roll his eyes. Men, though -- men were a different story.

He remembers the crush he had on his algebra teacher, Mr. Foster. It's actually amazing that he passed algebra, given that he spent most of his time in class focusing on the way Mr. Foster's slacks clung to the swell of his ass, the way his shoulders filled out his button-down shirt and how just a bit of springy dark hair showed at the open collar. That left him with some embarrassing physical reactions to deal with when class was over, but it was nothing compared to his reactions when he'd lie in this bed, alone at night, one hand on his cock and the other down lower, index finger nudging at his asshole while he pictured Mr. Foster's long, sure fingers and tried to imagine what his cock would look like. Would it be bigger than his own, longer or thicker or both? Would it be the same gleaming walnut color as the rest of his skin? What would it feel like, all the way inside of Len? It was usually at this point that his strokes would reach a fever pitch and he'd explode, hips lifting helplessly into the air as he shot over his fist and onto his stomach. He'd come down from the high reluctantly, still working his finger just barely in and out of his sphincter. He'd hang onto the sensation of orgasm as long as he could, until his over-sensitized body couldn't take any more. Then he'd wipe himself off and fall asleep picturing Mr. Foster's face, how it might look smiling at him satedly from across the pillow.

He hasn't thought about Mr. Foster in years. When he was Len's teacher he'd seemed so mature and wise, but he'd probably been right about the age that Len is now. It's a somewhat sobering realization.

Chris doesn't look anything like Mr. Foster, but now that he thinks about it, they have something in common. A certain way about them. Confidence, bordering on arrogance, and a sense of being in complete control of their surroundings. He wonders what it says about him that all these years later, he's still drawn to that.

Almost without volition, he finds himself opening his eyes, opening his lips, and telling Chris about him. About Mr. Foster. The crush, the way he felt, exploring his own virgin body and thinking about an older man taking charge, taking care of him. There's some shame, but it's also freeing, to give this part of himself to the man he loves. Chris's eyes spark with a touch of jealousy and possessiveness, and a little bit of satisfaction that Len is choosing to open himself up, make himself vulnerable this way.

Chris props himself up on an elbow. Whether consciously or not, it puts him higher than Len, looking down at him from above. He leans in and says, low and rough, "I'll take care of you, baby. Always." And that wasn't really the point, but maybe it sort of was, too, and then Chris's lips are on his and there's no more room for thought.

After several minutes, Chris pulls away long enough to lift Len's t-shirt over his head. Then he focuses on Len's chest, swirling his tongue around Len's nipples, one then the other, biting that spot on Len's obliques that makes him buck and moan, and running possessive fingers over his arms and shoulders. He murmurs all the while, and Len isn't sure whether the things Chris is saying are for his benefit or Chris's, or whether he's even supposed to hear. He doesn't catch all of it, but he hears the word "mine" several times; he hears "always" and "no one else, ever again."

He lies back and just lets it happen, lets Chris do to him whatever he wants. He's not usually this passive in bed. Even when they've played power games, he's always taken an active role, but right now it feels right just to let go. The whole point of this exercise is to satisfy Chris's desire to claim him, and it surprises him how much he craves that. He wants, in this moment, to submerge himself in Chris, to surrender to Chris's will and relinquish himself completely. He knows it won't last long -- next time Chris turns on the newsnets while Len's enjoying the quiet, or mentions his plans to gut and rebuild the barn, or tightens his mouth at the mention of Jim, Len will be irritated and they'll be back to being themselves, Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy, admiral and doctor, two imperfect men who clash almost as fiercely as they love.

But that's for later. Right now, Chris is moving to straddle him, their groins pressing together, separated by two layers of faded denim. Chris pulls off his own shirt, and Len can't resist running his fingers through the brown and gray hair on his well-defined chest, over the muscles and sweat-damp skin. Chris growls and pushes down in response, grinding into him hard. Whether it's in approval or punishment Len isn't sure, and doesn't much care. He runs his hands all over Chris's torso, and lets his appreciation and raw hunger show on his face. His lips are parted and his breath is coming faster, his hips are thrusting upwards towards Chris's, and between the memory-fantasy he's just shared and the reality of Chris looming over him, he's already on the edge. Chris grins with feral intent and leans in, working his hips so their cocks slide together, generating friction despite the cloth between then.

It's an un-fucking-believable view, Chris straddling him wearing only jeans, his hands braced on either side of Len's head, rutting into him while Len moans in helpless arousal. Chris is dominating him effortlessly, playing his body like an instrument. Now he's sitting back upright, his hands easy at his sides, and oh god, he's fucking _posting_ , hips moving with Len's like he's riding a goddamn stallion, so easily, in total control, and with that thought Len's orgasm hits like thunder, and he's bucking and shouting and Chris is riding him right through it and then easing him down the other side.

He's shuddering in reaction, undone by the suddenness and ferocity of his release. Chris is rock hard, he can feel it, but at the moment it's utterly beyond him to do anything about it. He's still trembling and Chris is still straddling him, running hands gently down his chest over and over and murmuring soothing endearments.

"It's all right, honey. You're all right. I've got you. You were so good, so incredible, so beautiful. So open and exposed for me. Showing me everything, every reaction. I love that, baby. I love you. Love you so much."

While Chris continues talking, he's sliding back a little, unbuttoning Len's jeans and taking Len's softening cock in his hand. Len tries to protest, both at the mess that Chris is sticking his hand into and because his dick is oversensitive to the point of pain right now, but Chris shushes him and holds him softly, cradling his flesh like it's something sacred and precious.

Len drifts for a few minutes, catching his breath, and with uncanny timing, Chris starts moving his hand on Len's cock just as discomfort gives way to renewed desire. Chris is focused and intent, working Len with total concentration on his task as Len's cock stirs and fills at Chris's bidding. His strokes are hard and fast, almost painful, and all Len can do is clench his hands into the sheets and screw his eyes shut as tears leak from the corners. It's too much, but he doesn't want it to stop and he doesn't know if Chris would even if he asked.

His own come is the only lubricant, and it somehow feels deliciously filthy as Chris fists his cock, small squelching noises audible in the late afternoon stillness. He raises his head enough to watch Chris work him, his dick rising from its nest of curls, still framed by the open fly of his jeans. Chris's fingers are strong, tanned now from exposure to the Georgia sun, and as he watches, Chris leans down and starts using his mouth too, licking and slurping at Len's cock like it's the most delicious thing he's ever tasted. Chris runs his tongue around the crown, groaning with enjoyment. It's too much for Len's already overloaded system. He gasps and comes again, watching his dick pulse weakly against Chris's tongue, a small amount of come dribbling out of the head to be licked up and swallowed with scrupulous thoroughness.

Len blinks slowly, his world narrowed to Chris above him, Chris's mouth on him, Chris's presence all around him. Chris is saying something, his tone warm and affectionate, but the words are a meaningless hum, a calming litany that flows over him as he closes his eyes and relaxes every muscle in his body, releasing tension that he carries with him always, _always_ , only he doesn't need it right now. He doesn't have to worry or be on guard or even think at all in this moment. He's safe, he's home, and Chris has him.

When he wakes up, it's an hour or so later. He can tell by the slant of the light through the shutters, the way the late afternoon sunlight is pouring like amber onto the bed, dust motes floating lazily in the space between him and Chris, who's prowling the room, opening drawers and poking into the corners of bookcases. He feels muzzy and groggy and a little disconnected from reality yet. His arms are stretched above his head, and he realizes without any actual surprise that they've been tied to the headboard with what looks like the black silk tie from one of Chris's suits. His jeans are gone too, and the heavy air feels like a caress against his bare skin.

Somehow Chris knows he's awake, even though he hasn't moved except to look around. In his half-awake state, the fanciful thought flits across his mind that maybe they have some kind of preternatural awareness of each other, but it fades as Chris turns to him and he sees the hunger on Chris's beautiful weathered face.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," Chris says.

"It's afternoon," is Len's rather feeble reply.

Chris chuckles softly. "Not gonna deny the 'sleeping beauty' part, huh?"

"Would it do any good?"

"Nah." Then as Len tests the knots around his wrists, he adds, "Don't worry, they'll hold."

"Wasn't worried," Len says dryly.

Chris moves to stand at his feet, forcing Len to lift his head awkwardly to see him. From the slight smirk on Chris's face, the move was intentional. Chris is running his fingers lightly over the bulge in his own jeans, not enough to provide him with any kind of relief, just enough to keep himself on edge. Len groans at the sight.

"I've been like this for the better part of an hour," Chris comments casually. "I've heard of being fucked into oblivion, but I've never witnessed it before. I'm not sure if I should feel proud that I managed it or annoyed that you conked out on me before I was done."

There's no good answer to that one, so Len remains silent, knowing his face is an open book anyway. Whatever Chris sees there causes his expression to soften.

"It's all right, Len. I was flattered. And you needed the rest. I don't think I've ever seen you that deeply asleep before. You didn't even stir when I undressed you and tied you up."

Len's cock twitches embarrassingly at the reminder of his vulnerable position, and Chris raises an eyebrow. "I see you're recovering nicely. Good. I've got plans. Big plans." Chris has one foot up on the end of the bed now, making the bulge in his jeans even more prominent. Len lets out a whimper as his cock hardens further, and his head thunks back onto the mattress. He notes distantly that both pillows and blankets have gone missing.

"Bend your knees. Feet flat on the bed." Chris is using a tone of voice that compels instant obedience, but it's not the command tone that Len's heard before. It's something darker, more dangerous, and it sends a shiver up his spine and a tingle from his stomach down through his cock. His feet are in position before he even consciously decides to move.

"Good boy." Chris's voice flows over him like silk, and he shudders visibly. "Now, here are the rules. You do what I say, without question or hesitation. You speak when spoken to -- feel free to make noise if you like, but no words unless I ask for them. You address me as 'Chris' or 'Sir.' Got all that?"

Len's head is swimming, his breath already coming faster. His cock is tight against his belly now, leaking precome. He feels too open, too exposed, and he knows it's only going to get worse from here. And the scariest thing of all is how much he wants it. "Yeah, got it, Chris," he rasps because really, there's no other answer. Then he thinks of something, which is pretty unbelievable given his current mental state. "Do I - do I get a safe word?"

"Do you want one?" is Chris's reply, in a tone that's suspiciously neutral.

Jesus fuck. It's some kind of twisted test, and right now he can barely think, and he _knows_ rationally that he should say yes and he opens his mouth to do so and what comes out is "No, sir."

There's only silence, and Len risks a peek at Chris. He has a look of intense satisfaction on his face as he watches Len watching him. "All right then," he says. "Let's begin."

It's a blur, then, a blur with moments of clarity like raindrops on a windowpane. The instant, overwhelming agony when Chris attaches the clamps to his nipples, and how he arches his chest helplessly into the achingly sweet sting. The moans that tumble from his mouth, and the babble of words too, despite Chris's instructions. He's begging, pleading, but for it to stop or continue he doesn't know.

When he speaks out of turn, Chris corrects him gently but firmly, and stops what he's doing until Len can get himself under control. Then, oh god, he makes Len use words, tell Chris exactly what he wants, all his most shameful desires. And then he fulfills them, every one. Not that Chris is entirely altruistic. He makes sure to get his own kinks satisfied too.

In fact, right at this moment there's a cock ring tight around the base of his dick, his ass is stuffed full of a heated butt plug that's set to _just_ this side of unbearable, and Chris is tugging on the chain that connects his nipple clamps, making him howl. There are bite marks scattered all over his body, as well as bruises that have been sucked into the surface of his skin, and his ass cheeks are red and raw from the paddling that Chris gave him earlier. He stinks of sweat and piss -- the sweat his own, the piss Chris's, and the memory of Chris holding his own dick and directing the stream all over Len's chest and down his abdomen is enough to make his cock twitch uselessly against the leather restraining it. Chris's face as he'd done that had been so full of fierce possession and such absolute love that Len could hardly comprehend it. When Chris had shaken the last few drops over his face, it had been sheer instinct to open his mouth and catch them on his tongue. The sound Chris had made, a moan dragged deep from inside him, would stay with him for the rest of his days.

Len would never have taken it this far, would never have expected that _Chris_ would've taken it this far, but there isn't a moment of it that he regrets. He's at the edge, the absolute bleeding edge of what he can take, and it's so much farther than he thought it would be. Chris is with him, and he knows Chris won't push him too far, and what's more, he knows that it's not his judgment call to make. For someone in his position, with lives depending on his daily decisions, it's an unspeakable relief to have all of the choices taken out of his hands. He knows, too, that Chris intimately understands this.

He's wrung out and blissed out, hovering somewhere in the region of the stratosphere, when he notes distantly that Chris is easing the plug out of his ass and setting it aside. He notices a good deal more consciously when Chris removes the nipple clamps, one after the other. The sudden rush of blood to his abused nipples makes him convulse and scream, and Chris makes soothing noises and kisses his forehead gently. The tenderness, as much as the pain, has him blinking back tears.

"Are you ready for my cock now?" Chris asks, and all Len can do is nod. He's beyond words at this point. Chris smiles gently in understanding. The fly of Chris's jeans is already open and the fabric is riding low on his hips, and now Chris -- finally -- takes them all the way off, moving as always with unconscious grace. His cock, hard and heavy, juts out from his body and Len's mouth waters in reaction. Somehow Chris knows, just like he always knows, and he moves up next to Len's head on the bed. "Give me your mouth, baby," he says, low and soft. Len has to raise his head at an awkward and uncomfortable angle to obey, but he does it. Of course he does. Chris rubs the head of his cock against Len's lips until Len parts them, and then Chris slips inside his mouth, only an inch or two. Just enough for Len to wrap his mouth around the crown, to taste Chris's precome, tart on his tongue.

Their eyes are locked and there are no barriers between them, no pretense. Len can see Chris, in all his flawed and wild beauty, every part of him, and he knows Chris can see the same in him. It's humbling and fiercely exhilarating, and so different than he'd thought it'd be, when he'd imagined it in this bed in his youth. It's _real_ , in a way his fantasies never managed to capture. Chris is no idealized, perfect lover who never makes a mistake and always gives Len what he wants, right when he wants it. And Len doesn't measure up to his dream-self either. He's just a mortal man. One who bleeds, shits, cries, and hurts those around him, only mostly unintentionally. And despite that reality, or maybe because of it, this -- being here with Chris -- is so much better than his imaginings of fantasy-lovers.

Now Chris pulls away from his mouth and moves to kneel on the bed, settling between Len's open legs. He hooks an elbow under one of Len's knees, pushing it back toward his chest as he leans over Len, using the other hand to guide himself against Len's already-loosened opening and then beyond, pushing smoothly and inexorably forward until he's buried to the hilt. Len can feel the wiry hairs at the base of Chris's cock tickling against his still-hypersensitive ass cheeks.

Chris starts up a rhythm that's slow and gentle, so at odds with what's gone before that Len is taken off guard. A gasp falls from his lips and Chris pushes deep, grinding himself against Len's ass to get every millimeter of his cock inside of Len. He moves his hand between them, and Len can feel the rough pad of Chris's thumb rubbing against his stretched-wide hole where they're joined. He tightens involuntarily around Chris's cock and feels more than sees Chris's shudder.

"I can't wait any longer, honey," Chris says. "Are you ready?" At this admission that Chris's near-endless control is cracking, Len feels a thrill along his spine.

"Yeah -- yeah, Chris, please."

Chris groans. "Say that again."

" _Please,_ Chris."

Chris sets up a rhythm, slow and deep at first, but increasing in speed until he's slamming his hips forward, pounding into Len with all of his considerable strength. "Tell me you're mine," he gasps out, faltering just slightly in his pace.

"I'm yours, Chris." Len can hardly form words, can hardly think at this point, but if there's an undeniable, fundamental truth, it's that.

"Again."

"I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours," Len chants in time with Chris's strokes, each one pushing him towards a precipice he can feel but not see. His hands are clenched around the rungs of the headboard, causing him to strain against his bonds as he braces himself against each punishing thrust of Chris's hips. Chris's head is thrown back, the long line of his neck glistening with sweat, and he's gulping air in deep, desperate pants.

Len needs to come, he's got to come _now_ ; his cock's throbbing in agony and his balls are drawn up painfully high and tight, and somehow Chris knows that he's reached the absolute limit of his endurance because he's reaching for Len's dick, hips never slowing as he undoes the catch on the cock ring and one touch of his hand is enough and Len is coming, coming, screaming Chris's name as orgasm tears through him, on and on, not letting up, and Chris is snapping his hips one last time and now he's coming too, Len can feel his cock pulsing inside of him and Chris is shouting something unintelligible with his eyes screwed shut and short blunt nails digging into Len's hips hard enough to break the skin.

They're both shaking when Chris slumps over him, falling onto his chest in a barely-controlled collapse. The move causes his rapidly softening cock to slip out of Len's ass and they groan in unison at the loss. Len can feel Chris's heart beating hard and fast, not quite in time with his own. He wraps his legs around Chris's back, which is the only way he can embrace him, given that his hands are still tied to the bed. Chris burrows his face into Len's neck and mumbles something that Len doesn't quite catch, but it sounds suspiciously like "Fuck."

Len hums his agreement. He's lighter, somehow, effervescent in a way that he hasn't felt in years. He nuzzles into Chris's sweat-damp hair and says, "Darlin', wanna untie me now?"

Chris groans and heaves himself upward just long enough to untie the knots, then falls back into a sprawl across Len's body. Len lowers his arms slowly and gingerly rests them against Chris's back, feeling the pins-and-needles sensation under his skin. They lie there together for several minutes, Len's mind clearer than he can ever remember it being. Maybe it's an illusion brought on by endorphins, but he feels like he understands his past more than he ever has before, and can see his future -- not the details, he's not a fortune-teller -- but enough to know that it's going to be him and Chris, forever, and that they'll work out a way for Jim to be in their lives too. He _knows_ , surer than he's ever known anything, that it's all going to be all right, and he laughs in sheer exhilaration.

"Wha's so funny?" Chris mumbles.

"Just happy."

Chris's only response is a satisfied "mmm."

"Come on, darlin', we reek to high heaven. Time to get cleaned up."

Chris burrows a little deeper into Len's neck, clings a little tighter to his torso. "Don' wanna," he says, and he sounds so petulant that Len laughs again.

"All right, five more minutes," he allows.

Chris kisses his neck lazily and relaxes his limbs once more. And if Chris dozes gently against his shoulder, and five minutes turns into fifteen, well, who's counting? Certainly not Len, who has eyes only for Chris as the last of the sunlight slips through the shutters and is gone, taking with it at least some of the ghosts of his past.

  



	34. Shall We Be Trotting Home Again? (Part 31 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The personal journals of Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy.

_**Trek Fic: Shall We Be Trotting Home Again (Pike/McCoy, R)**_  
 **Title:** Shall We Be Trotting Home Again? (Part 31 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** R-ish  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** Brief reference to watersports  
 **Word Count:** Around 6300  
 **Summary:** The personal journals of Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy.  
 **A/N:** From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) and [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/): Before you ask: **JIM STUFF NEXT CHAPTER.** We swear.

  


**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**

_Sunday 2260.182_

Sweet merciful mother of god, yesterday was intense. Chris and I did some things that I can hardly believe, and in my childhood bed. My parents are probably rolling over in their graves. Good lord, I cannot _believe_ I just had that thought. I hope to god I never ever think of my parents and depraved sex with Chris in the same moment, ever again.

Anyway, I feel somehow like it was a turning point for us. I suppose it's because of the level of trust involved, for each of us to admit what we wanted, and to believe that the other one wouldn't turn away in disgust. And then to not just talk about it, but to actually do it, do things that for each of us have only been fantasies up until now -- well, once you know someone else's deepest darkest corners that way, it's hard to ever go back to thinking of them in an adversarial way.

I don't know if that made any sense. But I mean, next time I'm ticked off at Chris, when he's done something asinine or just something that annoys the hell out of me, I know damn well that I'm going to think about how he looked when he was pissing on me, and the sound he made when I swallowed a few drops, and it'll melt my anger. How can I be upset over something petty when he's showed me that part of himself and trusted me with it?

This morning, lying in bed, he asked me whether I planned to talk about any of that with Jim. I was taken aback. For him to actually have to ask me that -- good god, I've somehow given him the impression that nothing that happens between us is sacred, that I'm liable to go blabbing to Jim about everything that we say and do. I tried to explain, and I don't know how well I succeeded, that of course I would never talk to Jim -- to _anyone_ \-- about those things. About anything so deeply personal. But as he pointed out, we have very different definitions of what's "personal." I told him that if there was ever anything he didn't want me to talk about, he only had to say so and I'd honor that. For other things, I guess he's going to have to learn to trust my judgment. I know that's hard for him. It's easier for me, knowing that I don't have to worry about that. I feel like I've failed him, left him not knowing what to expect will be kept private and what will be told to Jim or even what might become common knowledge. I guess, just like he's got to keep me in mind when he's off making plans, I've got to be more aware of keeping his feelings in mind when I'm running my mouth off. Lord, this relationship shit is hard work.

Moving on, not to an easier, but at least to a different topic: Jim. I got a comm from Scotty today, saying Jim was back on the Enterprise and acting strange. Well, stranger than usual. Even more hyper than normal, driving Scotty crazy with ideas for tweaking the warp drives or whatever other incomprehensible engineering crap they talk about, and then suddenly getting quiet and retreating to his quarters for hours on end. He's not even supposed to be there yet -- when he said he was going home I assumed he meant back to San Francisco, to Starfleet Headquarters, not back to the Enterprise in spacedock. I've got half a mind to go there myself and find out what's going on, but -- well, I won't do that to Chris. These last few days are going to be just for us, and I'm not going to let my worries over Jim ruin that. At least I can trust Scotty to keep an eye on him and keep him out of trouble; anything else can wait a few days.

Chris and I are going to take a walk and he's getting antsy to go, so I'll sign off for now.

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**

_Monday 2260.183_

Another big to-do with Jim this morning. I swear to god he does this stuff just to drive me to an early grave. This morning Chris got a comm from Admiral Barnett, saying that he'd received Jim's official request to transfer me to the Exeter, but before he approved it he wanted to talk to Chris and make sure it was what he wanted. Well, of course Chris knew nothing about it and when he called me into the room and told me, I about hit the roof, right in front of Admiral Barnett, who was still on the vidcomm link.

Chris got me calmed down and told Barnett we'd comm him back. Then he sat me down and made me take some deep breaths, which was good because I think I was about to hyperventilate with rage. What the goddamn _hell_ does Jim think he's playing at, trying to send me away? Does he think he's being noble and self-sacrificing for the good of Chris's and my relationship? Why in god's name didn't he at least _talk_ to me before he pulled this shit? I really wanted to comm him and give him a piece of my mind right then and there, but Chris convinced me to wait until I'd settled down a bit.

We talked it over before I went off half-cocked. I was really surprised that Chris was so -- well, I guess supportive is the right word. He didn't get that pinched look he gets whenever I talk about Jim, and he was more rational about the situation than I was. We ended up vidcomming Jim on the Enterprise, putting it through on a priority one channel using Chris's comm code so Jim would have to pick up. We told him in no uncertain terms that I would _not_ be transferring to the Exeter. Chris left the room so I could talk to Jim for a few minutes by myself. He looks like shit -- haggard and way too skinny. I couldn't really tear into him when I saw how bad he looked. So I kept it light, we just joked around for a few minutes. I think he was relieved, and I hate that he's afraid of really talking to me. We agreed to spend a couple days together after the Federation Day celebrations. I was surprised when Chris suggested it before we commed Jim, but it's a good idea. Maybe we'll go out to Yosemite; we talked about doing that, back when we were at the Academy. Then Chris and I switched, and Chris talked to Jim alone for a few minutes. I don't know what they said, and I didn't ask. Chris looked pretty thoughtful after the conversation, though. I really hope they manage to salvage some sort of relationship out of this mess.

It's raining now, just a light misty drizzle that thankfully is cooling everything down a bit, from unbearably hot to just moderately intolerable. I've never made love outside in the rain, but I've always wanted to, so I think I'm going to go see if I can convince Chris. Bet he'll look incredible with wet clothes clinging to his body.

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike**

_Tuesday 2260.184_

Well, tonight is our last night here on the farm. Tomorrow morning at 0600 we'll be transported back to Starfleet headquarters. Len just left to take the rental car back, have our luggage shipped home on a shuttle tonight, and have dinner with Mark who will bring him back after. I swear I'm going to be nicer this time. God help me if I'm not.

The last few days have been wonderful. We both made a point of shutting out the rest of the world and just concentrating on each other. We've talked a lot, and while every issue hasn't been solved, we aren't walking on eggshells around them anymore either. We've taken long walks on the property where Len has told me more stories of his youth, we've spent hours in bed making love -- And not just the bed. There was a particularly memorable time in the hammock in the drizzling rain.

We've figured a few things out. Len knows that I intend to do another five-year tour after this one. I don't think he was surprised. I know I said this would be my last, but that was when I still wasn't feeling that great and well, I thought I could actually retire. Being out there again -- Like I said before, I'm just not ready to give it up. It works out for both of us, as Len has made it pretty clear he's staying on the Enterprise for another tour with Jim. I'm actually okay with that. Sure, it's not ideal for our relationship, but we've managed so far. I know, like Len has said, the two of us would never do well working together on a starship. We also both know that nothing is guaranteed anyway, so we'll just see what happens.

I even talked with Jim. There was a bit of drama with him yesterday -- I swear 'drama' or 'trouble' should be his middle name. I'm not going to get into it but I was actually quite proud of myself for what I ended up doing despite the fact that yeah, it still bothers me more than I even want to admit.

Len has been so worried about him, and if I'm being completely honest, so am I. I've tried to stay out of it and maybe that was a mistake. I got Len to talk to me for awhile yesterday after I got the comm. I'll admit it's not fun seeing the panic that flashes across Len's face when there is something wrong with Jim but I just remind myself that all that matters is that I should help Len, give him whatever support he needs. I think it was a huge relief for Len to unburden himself of some of what he's been feeling. It's been a rough four months since -- well, since the two of them have been -- hell, I don't even know what to call it. It would be easy to blame it all on Jim, but I have a feeling there is more to it than Len realizes. So I simply listened as he talked. No, it wasn't easy, but in the end, Len felt better and I showed him that I can listen and I hope in some way it helped him feel better. I have to admit that being able to do that for him made me feel pretty damn good too.

Tomorrow after the Federation Day festivities, Len and Jim are going to take off for a couple of days together. Len had mentioned they might go camping, but after seeing how rundown Jim looked on vidcomm, I didn't think that would be wise and called in a favor with a family friend and got them a cabin. At least then I know they have a roof over their head and they can still traipse around in the woods if Jim is up to it. Of course I'll feel better if they stay put. Who knows what kind of trouble Jim will get Len into. But Len is a grown man and can take care of himself -- I'm just being ridiculous. I will be honest though, when I suggested Len might want to spend some time with Jim since the Enterprise's departure is delayed a few days -- A diplomatic mission delay with one of the ships currently assigned to the neutral zone -- Well, I didn't think he'd actually take me up on it. I know it took him by surprise, and it made him happy. So in that respect, it's worth it. Luckily, I have full days and nights of meetings at Starfleet and inspections of the Exeter on Thursday and Friday, so truthfully I wouldn't have much time to spend with Len anyway. So part of me is glad they will get to spend some time together away from everything and hopefully settle whatever the hell has been going on with Jim. That will take a huge load off of Len's mind if they do. If they don't and they come back worse than they were -- I don't know what I'll do honestly.

I think it will be okay. They've talked a couple times the last few days and Jim actually called me to make sure it was really okay if he and Len took their little trip. He seemed a little wary, but I think I did a good job of convincing him. We even made plans to have brunch, all three of us together on Sunday. I'm trying. I'm really trying. And honestly, the more I write it down here, and hell, I even talked to Len about it a bit -- Well, it helps. I'm even thinking of talking to Philip or Richard about it some. Maybe trying to not always work things out on my own. We'll see if I actually go through with it, but Len is right what he said to me on one of our walks. It wouldn't kill me to talk to someone else -- Someone I trust. I do trust Philip and Richard and who knows, it might help. It certainly can't hurt.

With the Enterprise delayed though, Len and I will have the weekend at home and I can't complain about getting extra time with him. Thank God for diplomatic delays and neutral zone treaties that limit our presence there. So until the Excalibur has signed the neutral zone treaty with the Wambaxians and Capins, the Enterprise is on hold.

Well, I have some calls to make and I am attempting to make peach cobbler to surprise Len with when he gets home. I know it won't be as good as his mother's, but hopefully it will be good. I want his last night here -- our last night here -- to be memorable.

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike**

_Wednesday 2260.185_

It's almost 0200 and Len is sleeping. Obviously I'm awake. I did sleep for a few hours, but woke up a bit ago and am too wired about going back to headquarters and work. I always get like this. I've enjoyed my time here with Len immensely -- Hell, that doesn't even begin to describe it. It's been incredible and while I came here with my boyfriend, or partner, I'm leaving with my fiancé and that alone is immeasurable.

My peach cobbler was a hit last night. I invited Mark in to join us and we sat in the sun room enjoying that and ice cream before Mark had to leave to head back. I did behave myself and I have to admit that Mark is a great guy and I just really need to get over my cave man mentality when it comes to Len.

After, we took a final walk in the dark around the house with a lantern, we watched the stars drift in and out of the clouds from the hammock before heading back and making a final sweep of the house to make sure we hadn't forgot to pack something.

We went to bed surprisingly early; it was only 2030. Not that we went to sleep. Len had the need to claim me in the family bed once more, and who was I to refuse? God, I love that man. He makes me feel so much more than I ever thought I was capable of feeling. I never thought it was possible to need someone like I need him. That doesn't scare me as much as it used to, either. We seem to have reached a comfort level with each other -- an intimacy that is just so natural and easy.

I think we've made huge strides in our relationship. I'm not just talking about my proposal. Some of the issues we had at the beginning of our relationship -- Len's fear of infidelity mostly, his constant need to put himself down -- they barely exist anymore. I think we talked about fidelity once this entire trip and it was more me just asking him how he was with that and me reminding him that I'm his and don't want anyone else. Ever. We're learning -- or more like _I'm_ learning -- to listen and to think of him first. It's not an automatic reaction yet -- I have to literally stop myself from doing things at times and consider how it would impact Len. A couple times the last two days, I made plans for our trip home for the engagement party and actually talked to him first before I confirmed them. The look on his face when I asked and how good I felt after -- Damn, it makes me feel like I'm part of something. I know that sounds strange, but in some ways I've still been on my own in this relationship, if that makes sense. I will leave here in a few hours feeling, I don't know, settled I guess is a good word. Settled and happy. Incredibly happy.

Two years ago I was still in an autochair, in massive amounts of pain, wondering if I even still had a life to live. I can honestly say that Len gave me my life back not just with his brilliance as a doctor, but with his generosity, caring, and most of all the love he gave to this half-bitter old man who didn't think love truly existed. I still say time and time again that I don't deserve him. I know that. I remind myself of that every day and thank God that he's in my life. I finally am starting to feel like I have earned this -- This love, this life. No words can explain what that feels like. I look down at the ring that now rests on my left hand and it feels -- Everything just feels like it's the way it should be.

Well, I'm going to head back to bed and curl up with Len until we have to get up. Everything is ready. We just have to throw toiletries in the small bag we kept to hold the few things we didn't ship home. In a couple hours, we will put our uniforms back on and return to reality. I'm going to miss this place -- but I know I'll be back. We'll be back. To make more wonderful memories, and make this into _our_ home.

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**

_Wednesday 2260.185_

Well, we're back in San Francisco. I've got kind of mixed feelings about it. It means shore leave is almost over and I'm dreading the separation from Chris. But the last couple weeks have been pretty intense and I know we couldn't sustain that level of interaction. I don't think either of us would want to -- it would get pretty exhausting. It was also good to go back to Georgia and face some of those demons, but there's a little bit of relief in leaving again. At least I don't have that feeling of dread about the place like I used to.

But I've got to admit, mostly what's on my mind at this moment is Jim. Whatever the hell is going on with him, or with us, or whatever it is, we've got to hash it out. I think -- I hope -- that we can do that over these next couple days. It feels wrong, in a way, to give up a couple of the precious days that I have with Chris in order to go off with Jim, when I'm going to spend every day with him for the next six months in a flying sardine can. But at the same time, Jim and I need some time together, away from the Enterprise, if there's any chance of getting things between us how they used to be.

I'm getting ahead of myself, though. We beamed to San Fran early this morning -- too goddamned early, if you ask me, but Chris had set a briefing meeting with his bridge crew for some ungodly hour, so we had to be back. At least having my molecules scrambled and sent halfway around the world wasn't as bad as usual since I was too groggy to worry. Much.

I got some of the administrative crap I've got to do in preparation for the Enterprise's departure out of the way while Chris was in his meeting. He was still gone when I was done, or at least by the time I couldn't take any more paperwork, so I got into bed and took a nap. Chris woke me up when he got back to the apartment by climbing into bed naked with me and fucking me stupid. I was still half-asleep for a lot of it, and at first I couldn't quite tell dream from reality. It was strange, but definitely in a good way. I'm really going to miss waking up next to Chris. He's pretty frisky in the morning.

Hell, he's pretty frisky all the time. Between the amount of rest he got in Georgia and the long rambles we took all around the property, not to mention finally complying with his drug regimen, he's in absolute peak physical condition. It's all I can do to keep up with him. Not that I'm complaining -- I love every minute. He keeps me on my toes, that's for damn sure.

After we got cleaned up and got something to eat, we headed out for the Federation Day ceremonies. They'd already started, but we didn't miss too much. In years past, it was just a boring day with politicians droning on and on, and pointless parades full of god-awful tacky floats and kids twirling batons. It's different now. With Vulcan gone, and the Federation in such a weak position, it's more... I don't know, solemn, I guess. More meaningful, for sure. I know it's harder for Chris than for me -- so many of his colleagues and friends aren't there anymore; they perished at Vulcan or over the years on other missions. He was pretty quiet, and when we stood for the memorial readings, he gripped my hand tight, between us where no one else could see.

We met up with Jim after the speeches -- he put in an appearance because he had to, but he took off as soon as he could. I don't blame him. For someone as seemingly egocentric as he is, he really hates being the center of attention, at least for something like this. They -- the Starfleet brass -- were touting him as the "savior of the federation," and, of course, rehashing all the stuff about his being the son of a martyred hero as well. Chris and I tried to be a buffer for him as much as we could, deflect at least some of the fawning attention. I don't know how well it worked, but I think he was grateful. His mom had said she'd try to make it this year, but she didn't end up showing. I know Jim was disappointed, but he wasn't surprised. One good thing came out of that, though -- Chris was back to his old self around Jim, acting protective and paternal. And Jim was feeling vulnerable enough that he welcomed it. It was good to see them getting back to how they used to be together.

There's celebrations going on into the night, barbecues and fireworks and parties, but neither of us was really in the mood for any of that, so we came back here. We've been puttering around the apartment, not really doing anything particular, just being together.

I'm packed and ready for my trip with Jim. Just a few clothes and toiletries -- Jim said he'd take care of everything else we'll need. Not that we should need much, since the cabin Chris arranged for us is supposed to be fully stocked. Chris is already going into work mode, making some vidcomms and going over the supply manifests for the Exeter. It's how he deals with things. Right now he's dealing with the emotions from the ceremonies today, and the prospect of me going off with Jim for a few days. No matter how much he says it's fine, and I do believe that he's more all right with it than he would have been previously -- well, it's still not easy for him. Anyway, he's sending out definite "do not disturb" signals, so I'm writing this entry, just waiting for Jim to come pick me up.

In fact, I hear him now, so I'll sign off.

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**

_Wednesday 2260.185_

Well, Jim's asleep. I slipped him a mild sedative in his beer at dinner. Not enough to knock him out, just enough to let his existing fatigue take over. I feel guilty about that, but not so much that I regret it. He needed the sleep, and he utterly refused to listen to reason about it. I'm sure he'll figure it out and rip me a new one in the morning, but that's a small price to pay.

I just got off the comm with Chris, said good night, but he was at Philip and Allen's place for their Federation Day party, and in the middle of a conversation with Admiral Barnett, so I kept it short. He doesn't really show his feelings when there are other people around, so the conversation was kind of stilted. I wish we could've had a few minutes to actually talk, but at the same time, I'm glad he was out instead of shutting himself up alone at home.

That's pretty much what I thought he was going to do when I left earlier today with Jim. Chris barely looked at me when I said goodbye, just kissed me once and then turned away to go back into his study. It hurt some, but I know that's how he deals with emotion, especially anything he views as weakness. I'm going to make damn sure we have a better goodbye when it's time for us to go back to our respective ships, though.

On the hovercab ride to the beaming site, Jim and I didn't talk much, mostly just traded a few quips and small talk. Jim told me a bit about his travels in Asia -- and I'm sure it was a much-edited version since he knows it'd turn my hair white to hear about the crazy-ass stunts he no doubt pulled. I didn't want to bring up anything serious since Jim doesn't do well when he feels trapped. I figured we could talk at the cabin; that way if he needed to storm off and think about things he could.

Once we beamed into the park, it took us a couple hours to get to the cabin, get unpacked and settled. It was actually really quiet and peaceful. I was surprised; I expected lots of other people to be there, but I guess most people were taking part in various Federation Day celebrations instead of communing with nature. I'm glad, though -- last thing Jim needs is more crowds.

Once we got settled we grilled some steaks for dinner -- well, Jim grilled while I put together a salad and boiled some fresh corn on the cob. He grumbled about me and my obsession with vegetables, but he ate it all, a large side salad along with an enormous steak and two ears of corn. He needs the calories, that's for sure. Over dinner, I told him that I wanted to say something, and I wanted him to listen but not respond until the next day. I made him promise. He was wary, but he agreed. I told him that I'd talked to Chris, and that we both wanted to complete our tours and then do another five-year tour. On our current ships. So for the next eight years, barring unforeseen disaster, Chris'll be commanding the Exeter and I'll be serving as CMO on the Enterprise with Jim. I told him that that's _my_ choice as well as Chris's, it's the way we both want it, and so for the next eight years he's not getting rid of me, come hell or high water. Despite his promise, he immediately opened his big mouth to say something, but I shut him up with a look. His jaw snapped shut. Good to know my glare hasn't lost any power over him over the years I've known him.

Anyway, he mimed zipping up his lips and the rest of dinner was pretty quiet. I could tell he was mulling it over and wanted desperately to say something, but I'm glad he didn't. Sometimes he needs to consider things rather than just going off half-cocked. When he got up for seconds, I doctored his beer, and that was pretty much all she wrote. He finished dinner and then could barely keep his eyes open so I told him to go to bed and I'd clean up.

I'm pretty tired myself. It's been a long day. I think I'll turn in.

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike**

_Thursday 2260.186_

I've been staring at this blank page for the better part of an hour while I work here in my office at HQ, not sure what to say. I suppose the beginning is a good place, so here we go.

I know I arranged for Len and Jim to have a cabin, but I guess I didn't expect Len to leave so soon and stay so long. Not that it's really long; they left late yesterday afternoon, and are coming back Saturday morning. I know they need it. I know it's important for Len. Knowing these things and how they make me feel are significantly different. It's just after having Len with me, sleeping with him every night -- well, last night didn't go very well.

I'm ahead of myself again. Jim came by at about 1530. I was working in my office when I heard him come in. He was in civvies and looking even thinner and more worn out than when I saw him earlier. He smiled when he saw that we'd unpacked the wine and had a bottle open on the counter. I told him it was really good and that when he came back, he should take a bottle for himself. He gave me a tired grin and nodded. He told Bones he had a hover cab waiting downstairs to take them to the transporter and I told him to have a good time and he left to give me some privacy to say goodbye to Len.

Damn, that was tough. It was all I could do not to ask him to say. Instead, I put on my indifferent facade and other than a firm, but lingering kiss, I might as well have been bidding a colleague goodbye. I then dove back into the work I was doing, trying not to think about it. I worked for about two hours and was surprised when my door chimed.

I mentioned to Philip and Allen at the festivities that Len was taking off with Jim for a couple of days -- Well, they sent over the one person they know I can't say no to: Kianna. She whisked me off to her parents' place where they had about fifty people over, including Richard and his family. We sat in the backyard and ate and then watched fireworks over the bay.

Richard saw me looking at my comm every five minutes during the fireworks, and asked me to take a walk with him after they were over. Since it was after 2200, I said my goodbyes and then we walked along the water for awhile. Of course Len called to say goodnight during my walk. He didn't say much. He said the cabin was great and they grilled steaks for dinner. Jim was already in bed asleep thanks to a sedative Len put in his beer. I wanted to ask him if they had talked; I wanted to ask him a lot of things, but I didn't. He was glad I was out and he seemed tired so I didn't keep him.

Richard and I found a bench to sit on, and remembering my promise to myself in Georgia to actually 'talk' to one of my friends, I told Richard an abbreviated version of what a jealous asshole I was about Jim. What I didn't expect was for him shake his head at me, smile, and tell me that he'd be surprised if I wasn't jealous. I swear, just hearing that from someone I've known so long, someone I respect, made me feel better. He also told me a story from early in his marriage. His wife had a male best friend that she'd known from her first year of college. They were inseparable. Granted, her best friend was one hundred percent only interested in men, but Richard told me it almost ended their relationship more than once over his jealousy. When I asked him what he did, he told me it came down to a simple choice. He could learn to live with her friend, and how close they were, or lose her forever.

Thinking back, it occurred to me they had an exceptionally long engagement. I asked him if that was why and he nodded. He reassured me that while it isn't easy, like he said, it's really pretty simple. He didn't want to lose Annette. I asked him if he really got over it, and he laughed and said, who do you think took my wife home after I left with you. Yes, once again, I'd failed to put two and two together that their friend William was that guy Richard was so ridiculously jealous of.

I have to admit, it helped. It helped a lot. Because I've seen William at all the family gatherings over the years and how they interact. And I honestly wouldn't know that he had almost come between them so many years ago. It gave me hope. And he's right, it is simple. I don't want to lose Len. Heck, I don't want to lose Jim either. He told me I could talk to him anytime I needed to. He told me that's what helped him the most. Simply talking about it, and not to your partner. Not that you hide it, but just that I shouldn't tell Len every time how much it's bothering me. It's not even about trust. I _know_ Len would never cheat on me. I even know Jim would never do anything like that to me. Richard says to just keep talking about to him, and then he even suggested I write in a journal about it if I needed to. I had to chuckle at that. No, I didn't tell him I already keep a journal, but I always do feel better after I've written about it here. Why has it been so hard for me to figure out myself?

I had a hard time sleeping last night. I could smell Len in our bed. Smell our lovemaking from yesterday morning. When I did sleep, it was fitfully. I finally gave up at 0400 and went to the gym and swam in the pool. Then I came into work.

It's only 1130 and I swear I've looked at my comm about a hundred times today. It's not like I even expect him to call until tonight. He knows I have busy days planned, and I do. Heck, I typed part of this entry while on a conference comm with the Vulcan Colony and right now I'm sitting in a virtual meeting with eight federation ambassadors.

I must be getting pretty bad though, as Richard just messaged me from across the table to tell me that my face looked like I'd swallowed something sour and to stop pouting. When I looked over at him, he was hiding a grin, but I swear I felt like a kindergartener being called out in class.

Jesus. I need to get a grip. At this rate, the newsnets will give me a new nickname of 'Pouting Pike'. While it may be deserved -- Fuck, why am I even contemplating this?

It's going to be a long couple of days until Saturday. God help anyone who has to deal with me.

  



	35. It's Very Rude of Him, She Said (Part 32 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The correspondence and personal journals of Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy.

_**Trek Fic: It's Very Rude of Him, She Said (Pike/McCoy, PG-13)**_  
 **Title:** It's Very Rude of Him, She Said (Part 32 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** PG-13ish (for bad words :O)  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** Around 4700  
 **Summary:** The correspondence and personal journals of Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy.  
 **A/N:** From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) : Here's the (first) Jim part, early, just for you guys who will be without internet and/or who bribed us with virtual cheesecake. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE. ;) From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/): The 116 degree heat has melted my brain. What is this supposed to be?

  


To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Chris:

Goddamn it, your goddamn therapist, the one who calls herself a couples counselor, is responsible for the shit that's been going on with Jim. I swear to god I'm going to have her license for this. She actually told Jim that his friendship with me was "dysfunctional" and that he needed to back off for the sake of my relationship with you. Can you believe that bullshit?

I want to throttle her -- giving any "advice" or even worse, goddamn _commands_ , is not what therapists are supposed to do, and especially not to someone who's not even her patient. I can't believe she had the unmitigated gall to instruct Jim to distance himself from his best friend when she doesn't know what Jim's psychological background is. It's the worst thing she could have done to him, and he's been in hell.

Since you're officially her patient, I'll need you to be the one to file a complaint against her. I can write it up, though, put in all the technical terminology to make sure she never practices again. She shouldn't be allowed to fuck with anyone's head the way she did Jim's, and I'm going to make sure she never does again.

I'll comm you later and we can talk about it.

Love,  
Len

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**

_Thursday 2260.186_

I can't remember when I've ever been this angry. Chris's goddamn "couples counselor" is responsible for Jim's behavior over the last several months. When she vidcommed with him, way back in February, she actually told him that his friendship with me "might be a little dysfunctional" and that it might be in everybody's best interest, especially mine and Chris's, if he gave me some space.

She had absolutely no right to do that. She doesn't know the first thing about Jim, about his needs and his background and how screwed up he is about relationships. I'm practically the only person in his life that he trusts, and Chris is another, and to have this incompetent hack tell him that he had to let us both go is the worst, the goddamn _worst_ thing she could have done.

I've never seen Jim's eyes as wide as when I let loose with what I thought of her and her "advice" after he finally 'fessed up as to why he'd been pulling away. He was actually trying to defend her, said maybe she was right. Unbelievable. He said it was his fault that he interpreted her words the way he did and tried to cut me out altogether.

It's not his fault, though, and if she'd had the first clue about Jim's psychology, she would have known he'd react that way. Of course, she didn't, because she didn't bother to find out before she told him that his friendship with me was actually hurting me. As if I'd _ever_ actually want Jim to pull away from me, much less "for my own good." All she did was give credence in Jim's mind to his feelings of worthlessness and trigger his goddamn noble, self-sacrificing streak. She shouldn't be permitted to practice, and I'm going to make sure she doesn't. I've already commed Chris - he can file a complaint against her with my help that'll get her up before the ethics board before she can blink. With testimony from all three of us, they should pull her license. God help 'em if they don't.

There's more to Jim's behavior -- some jealousy about Chris's and my relationship, feeling like he'll never have something like that, insecurity over his place in my life now that I'm with Chris. Nothing we can't work out if he would actually talk to me instead of clamming up. Which I told him, in no uncertain terms.

I'm too pissed off right now to focus on anything else, so I'm going to sign off for now. I think I'm going to go for a run. I need to burn off some of this anger or I'm liable to take it out on everyone around me, and right now that's Jim. That's the last thing he needs right now.

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Len:

Now wait a minute. Before you go off on one of your tirades and ruin someone's career, stop and think for a moment. You've only heard Jim's side of the story and you _know_ how he can be. I think it's only fair to hear what Dr. Elliott has to say. Since she records all of her sessions, there is proof of what was really said. She is one of the top couples counselors on Earth. Heck, people come from other worlds to hear her speak at her seminars. Dr. Rossen recommends her highly.

I know you never liked her, but I trust her. Maybe she's right. And like you said, with Jim's psychological background -- I think after you calm down and find out what really happened, you'll think differently.

I just tried to comm you, but you didn't answer. I just finished lunch and the rest of my day is completely booked until 2100. I will comm Dr. Elliott right now and ask for a copy of that session -- Of course, Jim will have to give permission -- My guess is he won't agree since he knows what the truth really is.

Don't do anything impulsive, Len. She's a highly respected therapist and it wouldn't look good for you to file an unwarranted complaint.

Please. Consider your career and how something like this would be dragged all over the press.

Dammit, I don't have time to worry that you're going to go off and do something while you're half-cocked. I have to run. I was due in a meeting with the other Admirals five minutes ago. We'll talk tonight. Why don't you take a walk so we can talk privately around 2200.

Miss you,  
Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Chris,

You've got to be fucking kidding me. I know how Jim can be? What the hell does _that_ mean? And you doubt that Jim will give permission to release the recording of the session because you think it won't support what he told me? You just accused Jim of lying. You, who used to love Jim like a son, who was one of the few people on earth who believed in him, just told me that he's a fucking _liar_. I don't even know what to say to you right now.

And your concern in this situation is what the goddamn _press_ will say if they hear about it? Your priorities are so screwed up I don't even know where to begin.

I wasn't going to go off half-cocked and of _course_ I was going to listen to the session before I took any action -- I need to know exactly what that quack's words were so I can shove them up her ass. But unlike you, I know damn well that when I listen to that recording it's going to confirm exactly what Jim told me. I can't fucking believe that I have to defend Jim to you.

I take that back. Of course I can believe it. It's your goddamn jealousy getting the better of you again. Well let me tell you this: if you think I'm going to back off from supporting Jim because you're in another snit over my friendship with him, you've got another think coming.

I don't think it's a good idea for us to talk right now. I was out for a jog earlier when you commed, trying to calm down, but that's just been blown out of the water. Don't bother comming me tonight. I won't pick up anyway.

Len

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Chris:

Here's a signed authorization from Jim and I to release any of the sessions we had with Dr. Elliott. You'll need to sign it too, obviously. Does this make you rethink your ridiculous accusations against Jim?

In case you were wondering, I told Jim I needed it to build a case against her with the ethics committee. I _didn't_ tell him that you needed it for confirmation before you'd even believe him. The last thing he needs right now is to know that you think he's a damned liar.

Len

Attachment: Authorization to Release Confidential Medical Information

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Oh come on, Len. Aren't you overreacting? I don't have the time to deal with this. I've signed the authorization form and forwarded it to Dr. Elliott. I also asked her to comm me after 2100 if she has the time. You're lucky Admiral Archer has such a weak bladder or I wouldn't have even been able to forward it and reply to you. I have to go back in now. I _will_ comm you tonight and we _will_ discuss this.

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Len,

Since I've been calling for an hour, and neither you nor Jim will pick up, I'm hoping you'll read this.

First of all, let me just say that I'm sorry. I could make a bunch of excuses that I was busy and don't think well about things like this when I'm rushed -- You wouldn't believe the shitstorms in the Admirals' meetings today. But you _know_ that about me. At least, I hope that you would by now.

I wasn't calling Jim a liar, Len. I simply meant that Jim has his own way of interpreting things compared to most. You _know_ that. That's what I meant. He could be right, but he also could be wrong. Do I want him to be wrong? No, of course not. Sure, I'll be honest, there is part of me that does, but not for the reasons you might think. If he's not wrong, Len, then this is all my fault. _I_ caused all the tension between you two, all the worry you've had over him. Me. My fault. And yes, it would be my fault that Jim has gone through all he has the last four months. That's a lot to swallow. You know I would never intentionally cause hurt to either one of you. But damn, it seems that's all I do sometimes.

If I had been able to talk to you, I would have told you that I talked to Richard last night at the party. We took a walk, and then sat on a bench by the water. I actually _talked_ to him, Len, and told him some of my issues with Jim and a few other things. It helped. He had some great advice, yet what do I turn around and do less than twelve hours later? Fuck it all up as usual.

You wonder why I'm not close to other people? Well, this is the reason. I'm not good with emotions, or thinking before I speak or act. I just react, Len. In a tactical situation, it works to my advantage. In a personal one -- Well, it doesn't work very well. You may yell and scream, but at least you are still thinking with your heart. Sometimes, I'm not even sure I have one. I think at times that you are the only reason I'm even human.

It's almost midnight and I'm tired. I'm drunk. I have meetings starting at 0500 tomorrow with Starfleet Intelligence, inspection of the repairs of the Exeter in the afternoon, and then more meetings, the last ending at 2200. I do have a long lunch scheduled with Richard. I'm going to keep my comm off most of the day so I don't do something stupid again. But I'll turn it on during lunch if you decide to reply. I won't have it on voice though, as it will unfortunately be a working lunch.

I love you, Len. Again, I'm sorry.

Chris

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike**

_Thursday 2260.186_

Fuck. This might be my shortest entry yet. I'm tired. I've had too much wine. I screwed up today with Len. At least I'm consistent in my failures with him. And this time I've managed to fail Jim too.

I could sit here and write a post-mortem but I'm not going to.

I am more than tempted to clear my schedule and beam over there tomorrow, but I know that would probably only make things worse.

I need to just wait. At least I hope that's the right thing to do.

Fuck.

I'm going to have another glass of wine or maybe open another bottle. I doubt I'll be sleeping tonight, but I'm going to try. I'll need my wits tomorrow to deal with the asshats in Starfleet Intelligence.

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**

_Friday 2260.187_

Chris and I just had yet another blow-out fight over Jim. Will we ever be able to get past this issue? Is there something I should be doing differently, or is the fault on Chris's side? God damn it, I hate this. My ring's sort of a muted yellow-brown, almost like a topaz. I'm not sure what that means Chris is feeling, but judging from our correspondence, it isn't anything good.

Anyway, it's a good thing I shut off my comm unit for the day after I sent Chris that authorization form yesterday. If I'd read his first comm in response, I would have lost it completely. I almost did this morning when I read it, but then luckily I read his second comm right afterwards and it calmed me down. Oh, who am I kidding, it melted me. He admitted he was drunk when he wrote it though, and I'm not surprised, because I can't imagine him saying those things without some substantial lowering of his inhibitions. Of course, with all the meds he's on, he could have put himself into a goddamn coma by drinking that much. But he knows that as well as I do, and he's made it crystal clear that he doesn't want to hear from me about his health, so I'm going to bite my tongue.

I'm not buying his line about not thinking Jim was lying, though. He did. He didn't think it was a misunderstanding. He said that he'd bet that Jim wouldn't give authorization because Jim knows "what the truth really is." He was saying that Jim was telling me something that wasn't true, and that Jim knew it wasn't the truth and would take action to cover it up. In my book, that's lying. He actually thought Jim was lying. That upsets me more than anything, because it means the trust between them is broken. Shit. And here I thought they were repairing their relationship.

I didn't tell Jim that Chris didn't believe him, but Jim did ask me yesterday how Chris had reacted when he'd heard what Elliott said, and I had to hedge. I told him that Chris wanted some time to think about it and wanted to hear the session before he decided what he wanted to do. But Jim's a goddamn genius and far too perceptive for his own good, and I think he knows that Chris doubted him. He just kind of nodded though, didn't say anything.

Shit. At least Jim and I are talking again. Last night, by mutual unspoken agreement, we didn't talk about any of this crap with Elliott. We talked about how he's feeling about his captaincy, two years in, what he thinks he's doing right and wrong, his assessment of the strengths and weaknesses of some of his crew. I'm one of the only people he can talk to about things like that, since I'm not part of the bridge crew, not really in that chain of command, and he knows I'll keep my mouth shut about anything he tells me. He also knows I'll give it to him straight, give him my honest opinion if I think he's dead wrong or has his head up his ass about something.

We talked about some of the missions that have gone wrong, crew he's lost and patients I've lost. He tried to tell me none of the patients I've lost were my fault and I tried to tell him he wasn't at fault for the crewmembers who died on away missions. Neither of us believed the other, but somehow it helped anyway.

He also told me about some of the clashes he's had with Starfleet brass over the past several months. Quite a few of the admirals think that he's too young and brash, too arrogant and impulsive to be a starship captain. They actually think he got lucky when he saved the earth. _Lucky._ Unbelievable morons, each and every one of them. Jim's the most brilliant person I've ever met, bar none, and yeah, that includes Chris. His intelligence is so far beyond most people's that it looks like he's pulling answers and ideas out of his ass, but he's not. He's pulling together thousands of pieces of information -- the kid absorbs absolutely _everything_ \-- he's correlating data, finding patterns where no one else would, and coming up with conclusions that are nothing short of genius. I have no doubt that one day he'll be recognized as the finest captain that Starfleet ever produced. He's going to be in the history texts. But right now, these shortsighted idiots are trying to clip his wings. Why can't they see that with the Federation as weak as it is now, we need bold, decisive leaders, not the same dithering idiots who got us into this mess?

Anyway, Jim didn't say so in so many words, but I know it's been much harder for him these last several months because he's felt like he can't go to Chris for help with this bullshit. I don't know what to tell him about that. I did tell him that I have confidence that no matter what crap they throw at him, he's going to come through with flying colors and make them look like incompetent fools in the process. He grinned at that and damn, that felt good.

We even talked some about Chris -- not about the stuff with Elliott, just about the engagement, and vague ideas for the wedding, and he gave me the third degree to make sure I was really happy with Chris and that Chris was treating me right. He made me promise to never tell him anything about our sex life, not that I would have anyway. We talked until late at night -- well, technically, early in the morning, and when we were both yawning and could barely keep our eyes open, we said goodnight. He clapped me on the shoulder and said "I've missed you, Bones." I said, "Yeah, see if you're still singing the same tune next time you need a hypospray," but I think my smile gave me away.

We slept in late -- until about 1000 hours. Then we had breakfast. I made vegetable omelets, hashbrowns, and pancakes, and I made sure Jim ate plenty of everything. He said I was trying to fatten him up so the chicks wouldn't dig him. Yeah, that'll be the day. Whenever he's under stress his hunger mechanism just shuts off. Given his job, that pretty much guarantees that he's never going to have a problem with his weight -- well, not with being overweight, anyway. Right now he's still skinnier than I'd like.

Anyway, Chris has got to be pretty damn uncomfortable right now, waiting for my response to his comms, so I'll write him back and put him out of his misery. Then I'm going to shut off my comm unit and go for a hike with Jim. This time is supposed to be about me and him, not my neverending issues with Chris, and not Dr. Elliott, may she suffer a massive breakout of Bolian fire-warts.

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Dear Chris,

Look, I don't want to fight. We've only got a few more days together and I'd rather not spend them with us pissed off at each other. Talk to Elliott. Listen to the recording. Then we'll know and we won't have to speculate or argue about it.

I'm glad you talked to Richard and got good advice. I'm glad you're working on this stuff. Of course you have a heart, and no matter what it turns out happened, this shit with Jim was _not_ your fault. If anything, it's mine because I should have put two and two together and realized that he started acting strange right after he talked to Elliott. Of course, he also should have told me what she said, and most of all, she shouldn't have said it in the first place. Don't take this on your shoulders, Chris.

I'll talk to you later. I love you.

Yours,  
Len

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike**

_Friday 2260.187_

I'm sitting in my quarters on Exeter right now. I just needed a little time to myself. I'm 'working' but taking a few minutes to get some thoughts out before I take Sato's or someone else's head off who doesn't deserve it.

I drank way too much last night. I haven't been that drunk in a long time. It didn't help that every time I looked at my ring today, it was green. A bright beautiful fucking green. Of course, that was a nice change of pace from the red I saw most of yesterday. I'll admit, I turned the ring around so all I could see was the band. It was too distracting in meetings.

Yes, it bothers me seeing that he's so happy with Jim. And it bothers me even more that I feel like that. I don't WANT to feel like that. I really don't know what to do. Right now, it's still green. I wonder what color mine shows when I feel like this. I'll have to ask him.

I had to take a minute and go outside and get some air at lunch after I read his last comm. Relief doesn't even begin to explain how I felt. I don't want to fight with him either, and didn't even realize I was starting one. But of course I was. I basically called Jim a liar and expected Len to side with me. And because he didn't, it only made it worse.

I meant what I said in my comm to him, though. I didn't mean to call Jim a liar. I really do feel like he has always bent whatever he hears to suit him. He was that way at the Academy. Always challenging, always twisting words and rules to work in his favor. The truth, though, is he doesn't miss a damn thing. He can repeat back exactly what someone says. I know this too. I just didn't want it to be true, and yes, I'll admit that part of me liked the fact that Len and Jim have been estranged a bit. The other part of me though -- Well, it makes me sick to my stomach.

Richard and I had about thirty minutes alone at lunch today and I told him how I'd epically screwed up again. He told me I needed to stop beating myself up over it. It takes time. He wouldn't tell me how much time it took him -- He told me it might be discouraging to me. But one thing he reiterated is that I _can_ get over it. He suggested that I treat it like a mission plan. What would my strategy be? What can I do to prevent myself being an idiot? -- Well, that's probably not possible for the near future. He has a good point though about giving it time, and I need to remind myself that I'm relentless in making things work. If it means groveling at Len's feet, and even Jim's, well, I'll make sure I wear kneepads when I go to brunch with them on Sunday. I'll do whatever it takes.

I think I'm going to stay on the Exeter tonight. I'll sleep better with the hum of the ship, even in spacedock, than alone in our bed at home. I have meetings there first thing in the morning anyway. I'll comm Len and let him know he doesn't need to rush back. I'll see him at home late tomorrow afternoon.

Regardless, I'm going to cook a special dinner for him tomorrow night. I've already ordered everything I need and it will be delivered shortly after I arrive home. I'm certainly not going to let what could be our last few nights of shore leave together go to waste.

Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Len,

You have no idea how relieved I was to get your comm. I'm not going to rehash it, because I don't want to fight either.

I'm on the Exeter right now. Meetings were hell at HQ today and I think I'm going to stay here tonight where I'll hopefully sleep better.

I have meetings scheduled until 1300 tomorrow, so you and Jim don't have to rush back. Spend another morning and afternoon there. I'll be back at our apartment about 1700. I've ordered groceries to make a special dinner and we'll talk.

I love you, and again, for what it's worth, I'm sorry.

Chris

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)

Len,

Dr. Elliott just commed me on the Exeter. She is off planet right now, but forwarded the authorization to her staff. She said we should have what we're asking for by midweek.

She did confirm to me -- Well, Jim was right. In fact, Jim may have even whitewashed it a bit for you. She's very adamant that she thinks Jim is 'poison' for our relationship. Honestly, I have to agree, in some ways, since a hell of a lot of our problems stem from my jealousy issues with Jim.

For the record, Len, I don't expect you to cut Jim out of your life. I don't want him out of mine either. I don't know what the answer is. I really don't. I want to believe that over time -- Hell, I don't even know what to say right now and I'm about to go into a meeting with my command crew.

I'm sorry, Len. I owe you and Jim -- Hell, there is no way I can make amends for this. If Jim never wants to speak to me again, I would completely understand. I'm just grateful you still are.

Love,  
Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)

Chris,  
I'm -- well, I don't know if "glad" is the right word, but thanks for letting me know that Elliott confirmed what Jim said. And the fact that she called him "poison" -- I'm not sure I can explain to someone who's not in the profession what a serious breach of ethics that is. That she's got you agreeing with her is only one of the reasons that therapists aren't supposed to express opinions like that. Her job isn't to tell you, or anyone, what to think and feel, it's to help you figure out your own feelings and lead you to your own conclusions. She's in a position of power and influence over you as your therapist, whether it feels that way to you or not.

She's abused her power in a really goddamn serious way, Chris. And it's had a real, seriously negative effect on all three of us. That's _not_ all right.

I also wanted to let you know that Jim knows you thought he was lying. He asked me flat out whether you believed his version of what happened with Elliott, and I wasn't going to lie to him. It hurt him, Chris. It hurt him a lot. Whether you can make make things right with him -- hell, I don't know.

I'll see you tomorrow.

Love,  
Len

  



	36. Walked On a Mile Or So (Part 33 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The correspondence and personal journals of Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy. Picks up on the same day as the last part, and covers some of the same events.

_**Trek Fic: Walked On a Mile Or So, Pike/McCoy, R**_  
 **Title:** Walked On a Mile Or So (Part 33 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** R-ish  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** Around 9500 (!)  
 **Summary:** The correspondence and personal journals of Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy. Picks up on the same day as the last part, and covers some of the same events.  
 **A/N:** From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) : OMG WITH THIS SECTION WE BROKE 200,000 WORDS. Wow. Dude. From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/): Look, I'm bringing you the gift of a long chapter on my birthday! Isn't it supposed to be the other way around? Must be the senility kicking in.

  


**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**

_Friday 2260.187_

Second entry in one day. That must be some kinda record for me. I think I _am_ turning into a teenage girl. "Dear diary, my boyfriend and my best friend hate each other, what am I going to do???" Good lord, Leonard, get a grip.

They don't actually hate each other... I hope. Chris is jealous as all hell of Jim, and Jim's more'n a little jealous of Chris too, and hurt at Chris's rejection, not that he'd ever admit any such thing. I kind of want to throttle both of them... or give them a hug. I can't decide which. Maybe both. I think what I really need to do is stick them in a room together and force them to actually talk to each other. In fact, I think I'll do that. Saturday afternoon when we get back to the city, I'm going to make Jim come into the apartment and sit down with Chris and I'll make myself scarce. Better warn them both ahead of time because neither of them is exactly fond of surprises. But I'll make it clear that this is _not_ an optional event, and that they damn well _will_ be talking or there'll be hell to pay.

Today with Jim was... well, it was good. We're making progress, anyway. It was strange and kind of awkward at first. It's like we've lost our rhythm with each other. We used to just click, conversation flowed naturally, each of us could read the other's cues and know what the other was going to say or do before he even did it. But now, our conversation is full of false starts and talking at the same time and "no, _you_ go first"s and it's downright depressing. Still, I think we're getting a little better, finding our way back, and at least we're talking again. Sometimes baby steps are all you can ask for.

We spent a lot of the day walking through the woods here. Nothing strenuous -- Jim's not up for that, and he knows it, which has gotta be a first. We were just rambling around, breathing fresh air and looking at the trees and sky. I'm going to miss that when we're back in that flying tin can. And Jim thinks better on his feet, and finds it easier to talk when he's on the move. He feels less trapped, or something. Anyway, we talked about a lot of stuff that's been on our minds over these last few months when we weren't really communicating.

I've gotta say, I feel like shit that Jim was going through hell and I didn't figure it out and I didn't help him. I was too absorbed in my own crap with Chris, and I let Jim push me away far too easily. I won't make that mistake again.

We talked a little about that. I told him that if he ever pulled a stunt like trying to get me transferred off the Enterprise again, I'd kick his ass to the neutral zone and back. He smirked and said he'd like to see me try it, but he got the message.

He told me he was ready to respond to my declaration that I was sticking around for at least eight years, if he had permission to speak now. I allowed that he did, and he said that in that case, he graciously accepted my offer of indentured servitude. I said "indentured servitude, my ass" and he said he'd leave that part to Chris. Smartass. I shoved him on the shoulder and he shoved me back, and somehow it ended up with us wrestling right on the trail, in the dirt and dead leaves. By the time we stopped we were both laughing so hard we could barely breathe. It felt really good.

We headed back to the cabin to clean up, and I checked my comm while Jim was in the shower. I'd gotten a note from Chris saying that he'd been wrong, Jim wasn't lying about what Elliott said, but that Elliott thought Jim was "poison" and he agreed. I swear I could feel the steam shooting out of my ears. I nearly threw my comm unit against the wall. Jim was getting out of the shower just then and he asked what was wrong, but I didn't want to tell him. Whatever Chris thinks right now, Jim loves him and would never intentionally hurt him, and I can't bring myself to hurt Jim even more by telling him what Chris thinks of him. Jim got quiet, though, and then he asked me, "Chris thinks I'm lying, doesn't he?" Fuck. What could I say? I didn't want to admit it, but I sure as hell wasn't going to lie to Jim. There's been enough of that shit going around. So I told him that yeah, Chris had doubted his version, thought maybe he had "misinterpreted" what happened, but that he'd talked to Elliott and she'd confirmed Jim's story.

God damn it. He looked so hurt, but not at all surprised. The way he looks whenever his mother lets him down, which is all the damn time. I could kick them, Chris and Mrs. Kirk both. Jim wants their love and approval so desperately, and all he gets for his troubles is a repeated slap in the face. I can't offer him what he needs from them -- parental love and affection. I'm his friend, but I can't be his father figure too. Chris can, and the fact that he's letting his goddamn jealousy get the better of him purely pisses me off, for Jim's sake rather than for my own.

Anyway, I didn't want Jim to get even a hint of Chris's latest crap, calling Jim "poison," so I managed to calm myself down. I wrote back to Chris, and I'm amazed that I managed to control my temper. It was touch and go.

I know Chris is having a hard time with this. And I know he's trying, but my ring's still that topaz color that I'm guessing is jealousy. I wish there was something I could do to help, but I can't think of a damn thing. Well... maybe one thing. I know he's lonely tonight. Truth be told, so am I. God help me, but I miss him already, miss sleeping next to him. And since we're not millions of light years apart, I can actually do something about it.

I've already sedated Jim for the night - he actually let me, which was a shock, but he said he needs to get some real sleep if he's going to be ready for our departure so he let me give him a hypo. Will wonders never cease. Anyway, he's down for the count. No way he's waking up before 0900, even with the way his crazy system metabolizes drugs. But just in case... I think I'll leave him a note, then walk over to the beaming site and go pay Chris a visit. He's on the Exeter tonight, and I know he wanted to sleep with me in his quarters there before the Enterprise leaves, so this seems like a good opportunity. I doubt we'll get up to anything X-rated, but just holding him is sounding pretty appealing right now.

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike**

_Saturday 2260.188_

Well, I had a nice surprise last night. I was working at my desk in my quarters when my door chimed. I figured it was my chief engineer as we had been looking at mission plans and discussing the last of the repairs that were completed today on the Exeter off and on all evening. I could not have been more surprised after I said 'it's open' to look up and see Len walking in.

The first words out of my mouth were "Something wrong?" and he just smiled. He shook his head and replied, "Leave it to you to assume something's wrong. Can't I just surprise you?" I stood as he made his way to my desk and then I gave him the kiss I should have given him when he left on Wednesday. God, he was a sight for sore eyes, even if it had only been two days.

He told me to keep working, and he sat on the couch with a PADD he brought. He explained to me that Jim was sedated, and that he didn't want to really talk about Jim or the clusterfuck I've created. I have to say I was immensely relieved. I'll admit, I'm a little worried that he had to sedate Jim, but I didn't press Len for details. As weary as Jim looked on vidcomm, I suspect the last two days haven't been easy for him even before I made it worse.

For the next hour, I finished up my work, as he did some of his. We were perfectly content, the disaster of the last couple of days and our 'fight' not weighing us down. I had to take one final trip to engineering to handprint lock some parameters on the warp core, and when I came back Len was curled up on my bed in a pair of my sweatpants with his PADD. God, he was a beautiful sight there.

I got ready for bed and crawled in next to him. He put the PADD down and pulled me into his arms. I let out a breath and sigh that I must have been holding in since he left on Wednesday. We turned on our sides, and kissed languidly, running our hands up and down each other's backs. Honestly, I was too tired to get up to anything too strenuous, and I could tell he was too. Eventually, kissing wasn't enough, and he reached down and wrapped his hand -- his large beautiful surgeon's hand -- around both of us and brought us both off as we kissed, our legs entangled. I slept soundly -- Actually both of us did, until my alarm went off at 0530, much to Len's loudly expressed dismay.

I shut him up by rolling on top of him and kissing him, which led to me fucking him hard, and then sucking him off. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to linger in bed. We took a quick shower, groping each other way more than two men our age should. Then I had to bid him farewell in the transporter room on my way to a meeting with Commander Sato. I think I surprised the hell out of him kissing him thoroughly in front of the engineers working in the transporter room. Surprised myself too, and yes, it did make me a bit uncomfortable, but I know I need to get over that. The smile on his face was worth it.

We didn't talk about the last couple of days. We knew we both needed a respite from all that. As we were getting dressed, Len did tell me that he was bringing Jim back to our apartment this afternoon. That we were all going to talk, Jim and I especially. I opened my mouth to say something and he put his finger over it. For once, I actually shut my mouth, not wanting to start a fight with him right before he left. I'm not sure what I could have said to get out of that anyway.

It's lunchtime now, and I have a half-eaten sandwich sitting next to me. I don't have much of an appetite right now. My stomach has been in knots ever since Len told me he was bringing Jim home. I will admit, I'm more than nervous about going home in a few hours and what will happen when we talk. I have half a notion to invent some reason that would keep me up here. I know that would be the straw that broke the camel's back with Len though. So I'm going to simply hope that I don't say anything that gets me in more trouble than I already am.

If it doesn't go well, at least I'll be out in deep space for six months. God, keep me from saying something stupid.

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike**

_Saturday 2260.188_

Well, I guess that could have gone worse. Jim just left, bottle of wine in hand, and I still have thirty minutes left before Len returns. I hope Len didn't expect Jim to still be here. I know he said we all needed to talk, but Jim was out the door pretty quickly. I don't blame him.

I was a nervous wreck when Len came home with him. I was finishing up prepping for our dinner when they arrived. We made small talk while I was finishing breaking the asparagus spears. Len went in to change and came out in workout clothes and I swear my stomach turned into one giant knot. He motioned us both into the living room and stood as Jim and I settled in the arm chairs in the corner library.

He told us, "Look, I love you both, but this crap has to stop." He was looking directly at me when he spoke and all I could do was nod, guilty as charged. "Jim and I have talked, and we're good. We're more than good." Yes, the twinge of jealousy sparked at that statement, but I swallowed it down. "I'm going to the gym for an hour, and you two are going to talk and work out your goddamn shit or I'm going to work it out for you and you won't like it." With that, he bent down and gave me a kiss and then squeezed Jim's shoulder and he was gone.

There was complete silence once he left. We were both sitting there across from each other, fumbling over what to say. I actually fucking asked him about the weather. I'm not kidding.

Finally, Jim stood up and started pacing. "Fuck, Chris. This is ridiculous. We're both highly skilled diplomats. We can bring peace to warring worlds, _you_ especially, but we can't even talk to each other anymore. We're better than this. We're supposed to be grown men. I think it's time we both start acting like it for Bones' sake."

I opened my mouth to reply, and was shocked when nothing came out. The kid was absolutely right. That was quite a humbling moment for me, but obviously warranted. Jim walked over and sat down on the ottoman in front of me and started talking, his hands clasped, head down, his eyes occasionally looking up to meet mine. He apologized for any part he's played in our estrangement. He admitted that he has had a hard time dealing with Bones having me in his life too. That surprised me, but I guess it shouldn't have. Of course, then I felt even worse about my behavior since he's obviously done a much better job of controlling his feelings -- his own jealousy. I'll admit, it helped knowing he felt that way.

Then he said it was hard for him to realize that I wasn't perfect. I sat back in my chair at that in a little bit of shock. He told me that he idealized me all through the Academy and early into his first tour. He'd studied everything I'd ever done: mission reports, tactical papers, and he said my dissertation on the Kelvin helped him understand a lot more about the sacrifice his father really made. He told himself if he could be half the Captain I had been, then he figured his father would be proud, that _I'd_ be proud. I'll admit, I nearly choked up at that.

He said when things progressed with Len and I and -- Well, when there were bumps and I did the first of many stupid things, he said it hit him pretty hard. He couldn't believe I would treat Bones that way. That Bones deserved better and I knew it. And then when I was not just physically, but mentally falling apart for awhile -- I guess the illusion was fully shattered.

He said that was hard for him, yet also unfair that he put me up on a pedestal like that in the first place. He told me he was sorry, and that he can't help how protective he is about Bones. When he told me, "He's all I have," in a voice so soft, so broken -- it was all I could do not to cry. He did cry eventually, as he talked more, and again, that was more humbling to me than words could ever be. Unlike me, he's not afraid to show emotion when it's warranted. It also reminded me, that despite his bravado, despite the commendations and accolades, he will -- he _still_ is in some ways a lost little boy who's never had anyone in his life that he could depend on, or that didn't leave him in some way. Until Len. And then my irrational jealousy took Len away from him too.

When he was finally done talking, and emotionally spent, he got up to move back to his chair and I grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. I wasn't sure if he would let me, and I certainly didn't deserve for him to allow me, but I pulled him into an embrace. He was a little stiff at first, but then he relaxed and so did I. All I could manage to mumble at that point was 'I'm sorry' over and over again. After a minute or so, it wasn't very long, he pulled back, wiped his eyes and stood up taking a deep breath. He moved back to his chair, and fell into it, looking so exhausted that -- Well, I knew I was mostly responsible and truthfully, it broke my fucking heart. _I_ did this to him. I can't even begin to imagine what he's gone through the last four months, and all the fear he's had since Len and I started seeing each other. Fuck.

I didn't know what to say, so I took a deep breath and somehow reached into myself and found something or someone that I didn't know existed. I don't even remember exactly what I said right now, it's somewhat a blur. I told him again and again that I was sorry. That I never intended for this to happen. I apologized for accusing him of lying. I told him I was never a jealous person before I met Len. That I didn't know why I felt that way. He reminded me that he wouldn't ever come between Len and I, and that was probably the toughest thing to swallow, because it was completely true and I knew it. Yet, I didn't know if I could honestly say the same thing. I told him I didn't want to feel like that, and he looked at me with his serious, no-bullshit look, and said, "Then don't."

He told me the worst part about this was the fact that I obviously believed that he would try to take Len away from me. That I somehow thought that he would cause Len to cheat on me. He reiterated the fact that he likes women, and only women. Then he said something along the same lines that Len told me some time ago that sure, maybe there was a moment long ago at the Academy that things might have turned a different direction for them, but he knew he wouldn't ever be able to give Bones what he needed in that respect. They never talked about it, but they both knew that moment had come and gone, neither of them willing to risk what they had. He only considered it in the first place because he wanted Bones to be happy. He told me he was actually relieved when things became serious between Len and I. He saw how happy Len was, and that was all that mattered to him.

Fuck if I didn't feel about two feet tall after all that. He's half my age and despite having no role models, or anyone in his life, for that matter, he's still twice the man I could ever aspire to be. He's far from perfect, and I know that, but the kid is remarkably 'together' for someone who truly should be the most completely fucked up person in the universe for all he's been through in his life. I can only imagine what he'd be if he'd only had nurturing, love, and stability from the beginning, instead of what Len has been able to give him for the last five years. The Jim Kirk I found in Iowa, the Jim Kirk who Len smuggled onto the Enterprise, and the Jim Kirk that sat before me -- He's grown so much, and while I know a lot of it comes from his inner drive and determination, it was Len that kept him balanced, kept him tethered -- and believed in him when no one ever had. Sure, maybe I played some part in his growth at the Academy, but I was busy, and didn't spend nearly as much time with him as I should have. Len is who helped mold what he's become, what he will become. And fuck me for almost taking that away from him.

There wasn't really a lot for me to say, honestly. What could I say? The rest I need to prove to him, and to Len. I told Jim that, and I told him I was grateful that he was even giving me a chance. I have a feeling he's only doing it for Len -- If it were up to him, I think he'd just as well jettison me out a torpedo tube. I know it's not going to be easy, and I can see that his trust in me is completely gone. That hurts more than I thought it would, but I deserve it. I brought this on myself.

There is a little more, but I'm -- dammit, I only have two days left with Len. Jim was notified this morning that the Excalibur completed the treaty and the Enterprise will leave for the neutral zone at 1700 on Monday. Another humbling thing is that while I'm still finishing my work for the Exeter, Jim had his all done before he left on shore leave. Granted, most of my time has been spent in Admirals' meetings and other Starfleet bullshit he's not privy to, but still. He's just that good. That efficient. And yes, I'm jealous of that too. But there is another part of me that is exceptionally proud of him, and I need to somehow reach down, and find that more often. Most of all, I need to _show_ him that.

Most of all, next time I'm feeling irrationally jealous, I'm going to think of Jim, sitting in that chair across from me, looking so small, so worn out -- so utterly spent, and if I still feel that way -- then I deserve nothing more than to lose them both.

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**

_Saturday 2260.188_

Chris is cleaning up dinner. He insisted that I relax while he did it. Obviously he's still feeling guilty and trying to compensate for it, and if it helps him, I'll go along with it. It's been a strange day. Packing up and heading home with Jim felt -- well, it felt good. It feels like we're back to our usual ways with each other, teasing but with actual affection behind it. It's a goddamn relief; it's like I've put down a heavy weight that I didn't even realize I was carrying. I need Jim in my life, as much as I need Chris, and it's been hell not knowing if he was going to pull away completely. But at least for now, that fear's been laid to rest.

Things with Chris, on the other hand, feel a bit tenuous. Why does it have to be a damn see-saw -- when things are good with one of them, they're crap with the other? Not that things with Chris are bad, exactly. He's just... subdued, which is so un-Chris-like that it worries me a little.

He was a ball of nerves when I came home with Jim. Savagely snapping the asparagus spears like they'd personally done him wrong. After I said hello, I changed into my gym clothes, sat them both down, made a little speech about how they'd better work things out, and then took off. I spent the next hour beating up the sandbag at the gym. It's not my usual workout, but it felt pretty good. I needed it.

When I got home, Jim was gone, and Chris was still sitting in the same armchair, staring at the wall. He looked -- well, he looked gutted. I sat on the ottoman across from him and asked if he was okay, and he flinched. Then he pulled me onto the armchair with him, straddling his lap, which was damn awkward because that chair's not meant to hold two full-grown men, but he gripped me so tight that I knew he needed me there, so I got as comfortable as I could and just held him. After a minute he started murmuring "I'm sorry, Len, god, I'm so sorry," and I shushed him. I asked him how things went with Jim, and he shook his head and said "I've been such an asshole."

I chuckled a little and said "No argument here," but he looked so upset that I couldn't leave it at that. I told him that we're none of us perfect, and that I was so proud of him for facing his issues with Jim and talking to him. I told him that I loved him and needed him, and that I would never leave him, for Jim or anyone else.

He let out a huge shaky sigh and said that from now on he was going to do right by both of us. That he knew it'd take time for him to prove himself, but that he was going to do it, no matter what. He was so determined. I really do believe that he can do anything he sets his mind to. He and Jim -- I've never met two men with such indomitable will. So I just said, "I believe you," and left it at that.

After a few minutes, he kissed me and then nudged me to get up. I went and got showered and changed while he finished up dinner. He'd made pan-seared swordfish with a lemon-butter sauce, wild rice pilaf, and asparagus. It was heavenly. We ate on the balcony, sitting in the patio chairs next to each other, our feet up on the railing, looking out over the city together. There wasn't much conversation, but it was a comfortable silence, and I caught him staring at me a couple times with a particularly intense expression. Each time that happened, I leaned over and kissed him gently, and it seemed to make him feel better. By the end of dinner, he had even smiled a time or two. God, he's beautiful when he smiles. Well, he's always beautiful, no matter what, but I love seeing that smile that's only for me.

We shared a plate of fresh fruit for dessert. We ate one-handed, with our other hands tangled together as the sun went down. We both felt a bit raw, I think, but it feels like we're making progress. Slowly but surely.

Afterwards, as I said, Chris insisted on cleaning up, so I'm relaxing on the couch and writing this entry. Since the Enterprise is departing Monday, it's one of our last nights together. I don't want it to be over too early, so I think I'm going to go make some coffee and check on Chris in the kitchen.

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike**

_Saturday 2260.188_

Len and I talked awhile after dinner was cleaned up. I didn't think it would be wise to leave things unsaid before the three of us meet for brunch tomorrow. I was surprised how easily some of it tumbled out, but I almost felt -- I don't know, disconnected from it. Like I was dictating the facts of a mission report. I don't know if that's a good thing or not, but at least I got through it.

I told him the worst part was -- Well, the part when Jim looked at me with those eyes -- Fuck, the sadness, the utter devastation in them when he told me that he couldn't believe that I would think he had lied and made up what happened to start all of this four months ago. I had to look away. And when he told me he'd never felt more alone in his life, without me, without Len -- I swear if I'd plunged a knife into my stomach at that moment, it couldn't possibly have hurt more.

I still can't get over the fact that Jim was willing -- _is_ willing -- to give up Len because of my stupidity. Well, it shows what a good, honorable man Jim Kirk has become. To be that unselfish, especially at his own expense -- I would never have been able to do that at his age. Hell, I don't even know if I could do it _now_. I didn't tell Len that part, but I'm pretty sure he knows.

We discussed what we were going to do about Dr. Elliott. We agreed that obviously I won't be seeing her again. I left a message with her office that I wouldn't be requiring her services anymore. Len wants to listen to the session when we get it next week. He told me he's glad he'll be on the Enterprise and thousands of light years away. He's truly afraid of what he'd do if he heard it while he was still here on Earth, since Dr. Elliott will be back next week. I know he's serious, too, and I for one wouldn't want to be witness to that conversation. I told him that I'd support whatever he decides to do. If he wants to file a formal complaint, I'd back both of them up. He then told me that when he discussed it with Jim -- Well, Jim just wants to leave it be. He doesn't want the attention, and wants to put it behind him. I can tell Len still wants to file a complaint, but I know in the end he'll concede to Jim's wishes.

Len just went in to bed. I told him I had a few things to do and came into my office. I already took care of my Starfleet work, but I had some thinking to do, and figured I needed to get the rest of this out.

Tomorrow we'll have brunch with Jim. Hopefully it won't be awkward. I just feel like there is nothing I can say to him, or do, to ever make up for how I've acted -- How I've treated him. When I said that to Len earlier, he said, "You're right. You can't." That was tough to hear, especially from Len, but I know it's true. He told me I was lucky that Jim is even willing to try. When I told him that Jim was only doing it for his sake, he simply nodded. He knows. I can hear him talking in the bedroom, no doubt checking in with Jim. I hope Jim is okay, I was worried about him when he left. I guess that's a good thing. I never stopped caring for him, and that's made this entire mess even more difficult.

Tonight will be our last night together here in our apartment, then I'm going to spend the night with him tomorrow on the Enterprise before they embark on Monday afternoon. I should be up in bed right now with him, making love with him, but I'm really not in the mood. I don't think he is either.

God it's hard thinking about letting him go again. So before I get more morose than I already am, I'm going to quit feeling sorry for myself and head into bed. He's here right now, and that's all that matters. I can hold him in my arms all night, memorizing his essence, and be eternally grateful he's still mine.

To: Leonard H. McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: James T. Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)

Dear Bones,

Yeah, I'm resorting to your preferred method of communication for having difficult conversations. Not that I think this is difficult, I just... Shit, Bones. I know we have this whole unspoken thing going between us. We always have. But there were a few things I wanted to say to you the last couple of days, and instead, I gave my typical smartass response, or I didn't say anything at all. I almost came to the gym to find you after my talk with Chris, but I was just too emotional and tired. I'm so tired, Bones.

I could blame writing this mushy shit on the bottle of wine that Admiral Pike left on the counter for me, but I haven't even opened it. "Liquid courage" you called it, back at the Academy. I'm sure it would be easier to get totally smashed while writing this, but that would be too easy. And since when do I ever do anything the easy way, right?

First of all, before I make a complete fool of myself with anything I might say later, thank you for the last few days. I mean that, Bones. Seriously. Thanks. I think I got more rest, and relaxed more, the last few days than during the entire rest of my shore leave, despite... Well, despite all the shit we had to work out. I'm telling you right now, old man, next shore leave, if I decide to go off like I did this time... Well, I'm giving you permission to sedate me the entire time. I'm serious, Bones.

My shore leave sucked, and not the good kind of sucking. Hey look, there I go being a smartass again. I could erase it, but I know you're rolling your eyes at me right now, which makes it totally worth it. But I digress. Back to shore leave. I know we didn't talk about it much, but I was ready to head back to the Enterprise after the first couple of days. I don't know what possessed me to possibly think I could disappear on Earth of all places. The only time I had any peace at all was when I stayed with the monks towards the end. I was followed _everywhere_. I'm starting to think you might be partly right about trouble following me around. Don't get all excited, I said _partly_ right.

Anyway, all I wanted was some peace and quiet, and some time to think. To be able to ride my bike along dirt roads and see parts of Earth I've never seen before. But even though I was trying to go incognito, the press was on me the second I touched down. I tried to take back roads, I stayed in small towns, and avoided big cities. Didn't matter. One time I left a small hotel and got mobbed by a crowd. Ended up dislocating my shoulder and people got hurt, and that was my fault. Local police managed to get me free, and I took off on my bike. Luckily, I know from experience how to get it my shoulder back into place myself. Well, if you can call it luck. This time I borrowed a wall in an alley, but that wasn't until hours after I'd finally lost the people tailing me. And yeah, I know it's not safe to be riding with one arm incapacitated. Not exactly fun either, and it hurt like hell too.

I can practically hear you from here, swearing under your breath reading that. What was I supposed to do, though? We weren't even really speaking, and anyway I wasn't really in the mood to hear you bitch at me if I'd commed you. Mostly though, I didn't want to interrupt your time with Chris. If I'd gone back to HQ or stepped foot in a Starfleet hospital, you would have heard about it. And knowing you, you would have tracked me down. I didn't want that... hang on. Since I'm trying to be honest... Shit Bones, of course I wanted you to fix me up. You're the only one I trust. You know how much I hate doctors, how much I avoid them. Yes, I can hear you saying under your breath right now that I avoid you too, but you also know I eventually come to you. Okay, I might be dragged in unconscious half the time, but that counts, doesn't it? Oh come on, Bones, that should have triggered a few expletives out of your mouth. Now you're grinning and shaking your head at me. Really though, I'm going to try to be better about that. I'm not promising anything, because you know how I am... Avoiding doctors is ingrained in me. Try to be a little patient. I'm sure I'm gonna screw up, but I'll try, Bones. I really will.

Under this honesty thing, I know you're worried about how thin I am. How much weight I lost during shore leave. Well, it's not exactly all from shore leave. I've lost more than five kilos the last few months. I think it was less obvious in my uniform than the jeans you saw me in. It's not like you were paying attention before that either, Bones. I'm not trying to make you feel guilty, but you were pretty pissed off at me. Not that I blame you, considering. There was also the fact that at the end of my first week of shore leave I ate something that made me sick for days. I practically slept on the floor of the bathroom. I threw up more than when I was so sick from that toxin you had to develop an antidote for, after that away mission to Tyrellia. I think there's even a vid of me throwing up on the newsnets. The headlines chalk it up to me partying all night and being drunk and hung over, of course. And before you start lecturing me under your breath, Bones, I didn't drink hardly at all while I was gone other than when I was with the monks. They prepared an awesome meal for me every night and served wine with it, and I thought it would be rude not to partake. So I had like a half a glass with dinner every night.

After the avalanche... Shit Bones, I just wanted to go home. You asked me during one of our walks in Yosemite why I went back to the Enterprise and I didn't exactly answer you. Well, to me, the Enterprise _is_ home. What do I have in Iowa? An empty farmhouse except for a drunk-ass uncle waiting to tell me what a fuck-up I am and then... Well, you know the rest. I haven't even moved anything into the quarters they've assigned me at Starfleet. It's just another empty place to me. What do I have to put in there anyway?

The avalanche... That was some scary shit, Bones. I had been in that little town two days before. Then suddenly the entire town was gone like it had never been there. Luckily, there was enough warning for the Planetary Disaster Agency to transport most of the people out, but there were still hundreds trapped. I didn't think, I just got on my bike and went and dug in the snow for hours and hours with the rescue crews. I helped pull a lot of people out, and thankfully there weren't many fatalities, although I did help recover a few of those. But what do the newsnets broadcast everywhere? Me pulling out puppies. Talk about bullshit. I'm telling you, Bones, hypothermia and frostbite are not fun. I _still_ feel chilled. Yeah, that's why I was wearing a sweatshirt the whole time we were in Yosemite even though it was warm. Last night I slept with three blankets on me and I still felt cold. In fact, right now I'm sitting on my couch with a blanket wrapped around me. I know it's a mental thing and I just need to get over it. I can't afford that kind of weakness.

Shit. Could I sound more pathetic? Jesus, Bones, I'm the captain of the Federation's fucking flagship and I sound like a whiny baby. Maybe the Admirals are right, man. Maybe I shouldn't have been given this responsibility. Maybe I was just lucky saving the planet and the Federation's ass. But I know I'm awesome at what I do and I love it... most of the time, anyway. When they actually let me do my job, that is. I just wish... Well, I guess I wish other people believed that. It has royally sucked, living under this scrutiny the last two years. I've tried not to complain to you or to Chris. Those assholes at Starfleet HQ make me justify everything I do, and I know from talking to a couple other captains that they aren't required to jump through half of the hoops that I am to keep the Admiralty off my back. I'm sick of it, Bones. I have the goddamn highest marks in the fleet. We have fewer casualties, fewer failed missions by more than half compared to everyone else. I mean, how long am I going to have to prove myself to them? I get it, Bones. I do. It's just starting to get to me more and more lately, I guess. And without Chris as my ally, not being able to talk to you, it's sucked even worse. Shit, I almost forgot I scheduled a meeting with Admiral Barnett for Monday morning. I was going to flat out call him on this bullshit. I'm not sure that's a good idea anymore. I just don't know, and I hate feeling uncertain like this. You know me -- act first, think later. This shit is not my forte.

I don't even know why I'm writing all of this to you. You told me that I need to talk to you more, that I should come to you with things that are bothering me, that I can tell you anything. I guess on some level I know that, and I've always known it. But it doesn't make it any easier. Sure, I can sit in one of our quarters and talk about the crew and the ship, but I feel like if I tell you how much I second guess everything... I feel like you'd lose faith in my ability to command the ship, or my ability to keep you safe. Yeah, that's stupid, and part of me knows it is. But you're the only one who's ever actually believed in me... Well, I thought Chris did, but I know better now. It's not like I've ever had anyone in my life I could confide in. Shit, I've never had anyone in my life, period. This isn't anything new to you. Half the time I feel like you put up with me because no one else will.

The truth is, and I can't believe I'm telling you this... I really don't know what I'd do without you, Bones. Shit, I tried to stand on my own after that session with Dr. Elliott. I'm not going into that right now. You'll hear the tape in a few days and then I'm sure you'll tear me a new one for not telling you everything she said. I couldn't, Bones. Right now, I'm trying to forget, but I still hear her voice in my head sometimes. Part of me still thinks she's right. Our friendship... our relationship _is_ unhealthy, you know it is. It's certainly fucked up yours and Chris's, so why shouldn't I have believed what she said? You told me you were pissed off that I listened to her nonsense, that I should have come to you right away. Maybe I should have, but what would you have done in my place? No, wait, don't answer that. You wouldn't have listened to her in the first place. And yeah, I realize that the fact that I did listen just shows how fucked up in the head I am.

Maybe she's right, though, and I _have_ caused some of the problems with Chris... I don't know, man. I've been thinking about that a lot. At first when you two started seeing each other, I commed him the same as I always have. Asking questions, touching base, trying to keep learning as much as I could from him. I was happy for him. I was happy for you. And okay, yeah, I handled that first big fight badly. I said some things to him I shouldn't have. I know that didn't help things, and that's on me. After that, I felt like I didn't have the right to butt in or something... I don't know. But after that, it wasn't the same anymore. I felt like his approval didn't mean as much to me, I guess. It was as much my fault as his. I expected too much from him. So I guess this is where I get to the part where I tell you what Chris and I talked about earlier.

I'm sure you know I wasn't too happy when you told me that you were bringing me back to talk to him. I certainly didn't want to see him. I don't know how much he told you about our talk. I didn't know what to expect, but I thought that airing all of that shit would make me feel better, like it did with you. Yeah, not so much. Instead, I still feel like shit. The difference, I guess, is that I wasn't ever pissed at you. I wasn't ever intentionally hurt by you. What he did, what he said, that hurt, Bones. It's hard to admit that, but man, it hurts a lot.

Fuck, I had Pike up on a pedestal so high during our time at the Academy. You know that. I remember you telling me I was like a puppy on crack, following him around and salivating at his every word like it was goddamn steak. I told him that today. Well, I didn't tell him your exact words 'cause I figured you wouldn't appreciate that, but I gave him the gist. I told him that was probably unfair of me to idolize him like that. But you don't know how much my life sucked when I first met him. Well, you have some idea, but still. Pike was the first person to ever look past my stupid juvenile rebel-without-a-cause shtick, you know? Just from seeing me, talking to me for a few minutes in that bar in Iowa. He gave me the chance to prove there was more to me than the smartass I was in Iowa. He got me on that shuttle on a dare -- a fucking _dare_ , Bones. How stupid is that? But he knew I couldn't ignore it, and he was right. He got me onto that shuttle where I met you.

And God, Bones, if there were ever two people more mismatched than us... But somehow it worked for us. I still don't know why you gave me the time of day. I don't know why you insisted on taking a look at my cuts and bruises after we arrived. I still don't know why I let you. Shit, we were both such a mess. Maybe that's why we clicked. I don't know. The point is, I would have never made it without you. There were so many times the first month that I wanted to just say screw it and go back to Iowa... All the whispers, all the pointing at me, and the worst, the complete silence that would come over a room when I walked in. Even most of the fucking instructors were assholes to me.

I never told you this, Bones, but you were my refuge from all of them. I remember one day I walked out of the gym because I was flat out told that I didn't belong at Starfleet, that I'd never live up to what my father had done so why was I even trying. That wasn't even the worst of the crap I heard. I'm sure you heard it all too, even though you'd always say you didn't listen to that 'pile of goddamn bullshit.' Anyway, you were studying on a bench in the quad that day and I sat down next to you, bitching about how no one cared who I was, only who my sainted dead dad had been. You looked at me and told me to ignore all the idiots, and that all that mattered to you was that I was Jim, your friend. My past, who my father was... It didn't matter to you. Shit, Bones, I think it was the first time since like third grade that anyone had actually called me their friend. You're why I stayed, Bones. Well, you and the fact that I wasn't going to give those assholes the satisfaction of being right.

After that, I felt like it was you and me against the world, man. You may have been a mess when you first arrived, and I know you had good reason, but at least you hadn't been a mess all your life. Well, that's not completely true, I haven't been a screw-up all my life. I was the good kid up until right before Tarsus, up until Sam... Shit, not going to go there. I just can't.

I cried in front of Chris today, which totally sucked. I think I did most of the talking. He did some at the end. I don't even remember half of what I said. I just told him the truth, I think. About how I feel. About how I still think you deserve better. I'm worried... well, shit, how can he ever think of me now without seeing the pathetic crying? Shit, Bones. I don't know if the talk made things better or worse. He kept telling me he was sorry, but what does that solve? It's not even about trusting him. I know he's a hell of a commander, I still trust him in that role. But as for personal shit -- how do I trust someone who obviously doesn't believe me? You know I don't lie about things that are important. Sure, I bullshit a lot, and I admit I bent rules at the Academy. But I don't lie, Bones. You know that, and I guess I thought he did too. Obviously I was wrong.

I talked about how out of the loop I felt at Starfleet. I feel like I don't know half of things I should. I told him that. You know, I wasn't even invited to any of the meetings that captains would normally attend when they're earthside. I told Chris that, and he didn't have an answer for me. He said he'd look into it. Whatever. I'm not part of half of the conference calls that are supposed to include all the ships' commanders. If I'm lucky, I'll get a transcript afterwards. I told him I thought they were purposely trying to sabotage me. He looked at me like he wanted to refute me, but couldn't. I want to believe he'd tell me if he knew anything, but honestly, I just don't know anymore. Maybe I can't trust him like that anymore. I mean, why should I trust him when he clearly doesn't trust me, especially when it comes to you? I flat out told him he had nothing to worry about with me ever trying to take you away from him. He's got some serious fixation, man, like he thinks I'm after your body. I don't know what I'm supposed to do about that.

I'm going to try to patch things up with him, Bones, but the only reason I'm even trying is for you. Sometimes you have to do things like that. And it's worth it, Bones. Don't ever think you aren't worth me and Chris trying to work out this shit. And stop blaming yourself, will you? You couldn't have pulled my head out of my ass before, even if you really had tried. It probably would have made things worse. I was totally determined to cut myself off from you completely, even though it fucking killed me inside every day. The fact that it was so hard just gave more credence to what Dr. Elliott had said to me, in my mind. I didn't even do a very good job of cutting you off, although god knows I tried. I also knew that spending time with Spock would piss you off. I was hoping it'd piss you off enough that you'd realize I'm no good for you and you'd turn your back on me. I didn't do it to hurt you, Bones. Fuck, that's what I regret the most about all of this, when you told me on one of our walks how much it hurt to feel like you were losing me, and then to see me spending time with Spock, like I'd just up and replaced you. Shit, I didn't want that. You know you're the last person I would ever intentionally hurt. I'm sorry, Bones. It was a crappy thing to do to you and I'm sorry.

So then when you told me you weren't going anywhere, that it was your decision to stay on the Enterprise for at least eight more years... I can't even begin to explain how that made me feel. It's probably a good thing you told me I couldn't respond right away, that I had to think about it. Because seriously, I probably would have done something totally embarrassing and un-captain-like and either cried or jumped into your arms hugging you and saying thank you in every language I know. So thank you for sparing me the indignity, even though I just told you anyway. You'll never know how much it means to me, Bones. I hope I'm worth your sacrifice, and don't even try to tell me it's not a sacrifice, Bones. You know it is. So thank you.

I'm barely staying awake here now, and I have some more stupid administrative work to do before I can sleep. I don't even know if I've said half the things I meant to, or need to. Maybe I've said more than I should. I'm going to hit send without re-reading before I change my mind. I'll probably wake up in the morning totally embarrassed by the things I've said here, but I know that you deserve more than the wisecracks and half-answers I gave you the last few days. Sure, we talked a lot, and we both said things we needed to, but not everything. Well, I didn't want to hold anything back. I want to leave on Monday with you by my side and with the air between us totally clear, nothing left unsaid, for once. I don't want to hide behind my fucking bravado anymore... Well, I'm not giving it up entirely, and it's not like it ever really fooled you anyway. I wouldn't be me without it in some ways, I guess, but it's nice, it's always been nice, to be able to kick back with you and not have to worry about being 'on' like I am with everyone else. You've always looked past that, and I want to thank you for that. For seeing me, all of me, and sticking around anyway.

Thank you for being my friend, Bones. My best friend. I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I'm so fucking grateful. Don't ever forget that. Especially the next time I come back from an away mission in less than stellar shape, okay?

I love you, too.

Jim

  



	37. It Was So Kind of You To Come (Part 34 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The correspondence and personal journals of Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy. Now with bonus Jim!

_**Trek Fic: It Was So Kind Of You To Come (Pike/McCoy, NC-17)**_  
 **Title:** It Was So Kind of You To Come (Part 34 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** Around 7000  
 **Summary:** The correspondence and personal journals of Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy. Now with bonus Jim!  
 **A/N:** Um, enjoy? /braindead and boring

  


  
**To: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)**

Dear Jim,

You crazy jackass. I can't believe you were keeping all that in. It's not good for your health, you know. It'll give you high blood pressure and lower your immunity and with your goddamned bizarre immune system, you can't afford that. Okay, lecture over.

I hope you know I'm going to keep your comm for the rest of my life as proof that I've got standing permission to sedate you if you act like an idiot on shore leave. You're not getting out of that promise, ever.

Jim, trouble does follow you around, but it's not always your fault. I can't believe I'm admitting that. But the crap with the paparazzi, and the crazy mobs of fans -- none of that bullshit is your fault. People need someone to idolize. Well, you know that, you did it with Chris. For most people on earth, that's you. You did save the entire planet, after all. I know you had help, but mostly it was you. Plus, you're too pretty for your own good so the bastards in the admiralty made you the poster boy for Starfleet. And yeah, your dad's legacy probably had something to do with it too -- people like neat packages, nice stories, and the son of a hero being a hero as well is an appealing thing. Anyway, you know all this. My point is, they aren't going to forget anytime soon. And it isn't fair, and it isn't right, and you've dealt with more than your share of crap in your life, and you don't deserve this on top of it all. It's piss-poor repayment for what you did for all of us. I'm sorry, kid, I really am.

And of course with your hero complex, you couldn't hear about a natural disaster nearby without rushing to help. I'm not criticizing -- I know that's just who you are. It's a good way to be. But Jim, you've got to spare a thought for yourself. You're wearing yourself to a thread, giving more and more to other people and saving nothing for your own self. If you don't care about yourself, think of everyone else. If you burn yourself out, you won't be able to save more innocent lives. And I know you know what it does to me when you get hurt, so I won't belabor it, but Jim, if something happens to you it's gonna just about kill me. Just -- keep it in the back of your mind when you're considering doing something crazy, all right?

As for all the bullshit the bastards at Starfleet Command are putting you through, I don't know what to say. You know that political crap makes me want to tear my hair out. I'm pretty damn sure Chris is going to be taking a good hard look at what's been going on, though. And for whatever it's worth, you know you always have my support.

Dammit, Jim, of course you can talk to me about this crap, about your doubts and fears that you're not doing everything right. No one's perfect, you included. You can't honestly think I hadn't realized that already. Shit, I point out your faults often enough. But Jim, that doesn't matter. I'm not going to lose my faith in you, ever. Period. There's no one I trust more, no one I'd want to serve with more than you. And yeah, that includes Chris. You ever tell him I said that and I'll deny it. Then I'll kill you and hide the body where no one will ever find it.

I don't put up with you because no one else will. You don't really think I'm that goddamn altruistic, do you? If I was, I'd be hanging out with Ensign Parker, that guy with the horrible B.O. that no one wants to get near. The point is, I stick around because I want to, all right? I'm not going anywhere, not for years, and you better get that through your thick skull. Don't scare me like that again, okay? By pulling away like that, I mean. I know you've been through hell, but it hasn't been a picnic for me either. You said you needed me, that you couldn't stand on your own without me. Well, that's a two-way street, Jim. It's the same for me. We just _fit_ together. We click, like you said in your letter. We need each other. And you know what? I don't give a shit if that's not healthy. It works for us, and that's all that matters. Chris is going to learn to live with that, or he's going to lose me, and he knows it.

As for all the crap that's gone on with the three of us... there's more than enough blame to go around, Jim. For all of us. But I don't think it's a good idea to try to go back and do a post-mortem. It's over and we all need to move on. I've got my thoughts on the relationship between you and Chris. But I don't know if it's a good idea for me to express them, to either of you. I think maybe I should just butt out and let you two figure it out on your own. As long as you're not both being stubborn idiots, I think you two should be able to find your way back to some kind of relationship. It's not going to be the same as before, but maybe that's a good thing. I don't know.

You said I kept you in the Academy, but you've gotta know that the same is true for me. I would've been drunk off my ass every night and hung over every day if not for you. I would've flunked out the first time I had to do a flight sim. You kept me sane. You're not a screw-up, Jim. There's no owing, no debt between us. Or maybe there's so much on both sides that it cancels out. But I don't want you to think that I did all this crap for you and you never did anything for me, because that's not how it was.

I'm not going to push it, but you need to talk about Sam, and about Tarsus. Not now, but at some point. Whenever you're ready, I'm here, all right?

Don't feel bad for crying in front of Chris. I've cried in front of him too, and he's cried in front of me. It's nothing to be ashamed of. He's not going to think less of you. Hell, he told me flat out that he thinks more of you because you can actually let yourself be emotional when it's warranted. He loves you, Jim, and he does believe in you. He just let his stupid irrational jealousy get in the way of that. Well, there goes my resolution to stay out of things between you. That's all I'm going to say about that, though.

Jim, my staying on the Enterprise is _not_ a sacrifice. I'm not kidding. Can you even imagine Chris and I serving on the same ship? With him as my direct superior, giving me orders? With me as his CMO, constantly fussing over his health? There's no way our relationship would survive that. Within a month we'd be at each other's throats constantly. And even apart from that, hell, Jim, I want to serve with you. You're my best friend and the best damn captain in the history of Starfleet. Why wouldn't I want to be by your side?

As long as we're being totally honest... God this is juvenile. All right, look, I sometimes get jealous of Spock. There, I said it. I can't believe I said it. But you two -- the way you work together, you're so in tune, it's almost creepy sometimes. And you two _are_ getting to be friends, I know you are. And I do want you to have other people in your life. I guess it's just that ever since you told me about your talk with Old Spock, and how he told you that you and him, or the other him, this universe's him, were destined to be the most epic friends of all time and people would write goddamn songs about you or something... I don't know, I feel like I'm somehow in the way, and ruining the way things are supposed to be. Anyway, it's stupid. I know it is. Good lord, this is embarrassing. All right, I'm shutting up about that now.

I'm glad you wrote me that comm. I'm worried sick about you after reading it, but I'm still glad you sent it. I think we ought to meet before brunch tomorrow, just so we can clear the air, if there's anything left we need to say. Let's meet at Caffe Intermezzo -- you remember it, right? It's the one just outside of campus, with the redheaded barista who was constantly shooting you down. Wonder if she's still there. Anyway, you, me, Caffe Intermezzo, 0800. I'll tell Chris I'm meeting you before brunch and that we'll meet him at the restaurant at 1000. Don't even think of skipping out on me, Jim. I know where you live and I've got a dozen hyposprays with your name on 'em.

You and me against the world, you crazy bastard.

Bones

**To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)**

Bones,  
Sorry, I just woke up, but I'll be on my way in five. Order my usual espresso for me. Or better make it a quadruple shot if you don't want me falling asleep at the table.

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike**

_Sunday 2260.189_

It's a gloomy Sunday morning here in San Francisco. I'm sitting outside on my balcony, sipping coffee, and watching the fog and the rain clouds fight for dominance. Kind of like my mood right now. I feel like I'm fighting myself, two parts of me at war with the other. On one side, I'm the secure and confident Starfleet Admiral, commander of the Exeter. On the other, pathetically insecure and insanely jealous that my fiancé left our bed at the crack of dawn this morning to work out in the gym, and right now is having coffee with Jim.

I'm not sure what's going on, but considering how worried Len looked last night when I went to bed, it can't be anything good. I understand he doesn't want to talk to me about Jim -- I only have myself to blame for that. But being in the dark, not knowing what's going on might be even worse.

The only thing he asked was if I knew about the 'bullshit' with the Admiralty and Jim. I told him that Jim had said a few things during our talk earlier and asked him if wanted to elaborate. He opened his mouth like he _knew_ what he wanted to say, but then stopped. A minute later he looked at me kind of oddly and asked me if I had overheard anything about certain people trying to sabotage Jim's captaincy, like keeping him out of the loop. I honestly think he was afraid of my answer, like I've known all along.

I told him there is and always has been a lot of discussion about Jim. I was honest and told him that while at times I've defended Jim, there are times when I agree with them. I reminded him that unfortunately it is politics, and there are a lot of old timers that I wouldn't put it past to try to sabotage Jim. I reminded him that Starfleet really had no choice but to make Jim a captain, make him Starfleet's poster boy. They were trapped, and several high placed members of the Admiralty actually resigned when they allowed it.

I reminded him that I supported Jim getting the Enterprise. Sure, I can't honestly say I didn't have my doubts of turning the flagship over to a twenty-five year old who hadn't even graduated yet. I was thirty-one when I earned my first command, the youngest by three years at the time. The numbers don't lie though. Jim has done an incredible job, no one can deny that. I told Len that many of them expected him to fall on his face within six months to a year, and they'd quietly replace him. He obviously didn't, but I agreed with Len that it's highly possible there are those still trying to make it happen.

I promised Len that I would see what I could find out. That if he knew more than what I mentioned Jim had told me earlier, it would be helpful to me. He suggested we talk about it over brunch if it's okay with Jim, and while that stung a bit, that he wouldn't betray Jim's confidence, I understand. I reminded him that I had to tread carefully, and it might take some time. He simply nodded and slid into bed.

I know we were both emotionally exhausted from the day, Len even more so from what I'd guess weren't an easy couple of days with Jim. He seemed so relieved, though, that he and Jim are on the mend, and I can honestly say that I am too. I never enjoyed knowing Len was suffering, which makes me feel even worse that I indirectly caused it in the first place. I know I need to move on, though. I can't change what happened, but I can change how I react from now on. That's what I'm going to focus on.

Yet, I'm sitting here, watching my ring swirl yellow and green. He's obviously worried about Jim, but happy that Jim is talking to him again. Me, I'm not sure what I feel right now. I'll admit part of me is a little miffed that with the time counting down until he leaves, he's spending time with Jim. The other part of me knows that he wouldn't do that without good reason. He was awfully rattled about something last night, and if this couple of hours with Jim relieves that, then really, that's all that matters. Thinking of it that way does help the jealousy.

What I should have done is gone to the gym myself. Instead I've been sitting out here for over an hour writing this and thinking more than any halfway normal person should. Of course what I'm thinking about the most, and what I've left until the end, was the disaster of Len and I in bed last night. I knew neither of us were in the mood. I held him for awhile, we talked about the trip home for the engagement party in October and spending a couple of days in Mojave. I think he felt guilty, though, since it was our last night here in the apartment. I'm sure he was trying to reassure me, so we started to fool around, going through the motions really. After about ten minutes -- Well, it just wasn't going anywhere. I didn't feel like it, I could tell he didn't feel like it. I was barely even hard, which says a lot considering I get hard just from being next to him half the time.

So we stopped, it was awkward, and I got up go to the bathroom and ended up taking a shower. I didn't even feel like jerking off, which says even more. When I came back out, Len was asleep, or, more than likely, faking being asleep. It was totally understandable considering the day we had, but it bothers me more than I thought it would. After all, the sex is what in some ways got us together in the first place. I don't mean that as a bad thing, just being truthful.

When I crawled into bed, I spooned up behind him. I felt his breathing change, and wrapped my arm around him. I just started talking, quietly, about nothing, then I brought up our first time together on Milika III. The first time I was inside him, the first time I came again since my injury. I was so selfish during that trip, dominating the sex. Doing whatever I pleased with him. Not allowing him to fuck me. I admitted to him that before that trip, I still didn't see him as being much more than -- Well, I guess a fling. Sure, I was attracted to him, but I didn't see it going anywhere. I wasn't interested in a long term relationship ever again. Of course, that trip changed it all. That first time I was inside him, and then coming -- I told him I still think of that time the most when I'm jerking off. By the end of that trip I knew it wasn't a fling, at least for me. And when he confirmed his feelings in our comms after, there was no looking back.

It was nice to lie there together, reminiscing. And talking about the future. If we both finish our second tours, it will be over nine years apart when mine finally ends. It seems such a long time right now, but really, it will just be a short period in the life we spend together. I may not be as young as him, but I plan on living another seventy or eighty years, god willing. That's plenty of time to raise a family. Looking at it that way, it doesn't seem so bad, or so long. If we get married sometime next year like we've been discussing, I'll be lucky enough to spend seventy-five years married to him. Two years ago, I would have laughed if anyone told me I would ever feel like this. Hell, I would have laughed at myself for thinking it.

Now, I can't imagine being without him. It almost seems silly that I'm letting his friendship with Jim jeopardize our relationship. I want to believe that yes, while I may still be sitting here having twinges of jealousy, it's not as bad as it's been times before. At least I haven't done anything foolish like comm him, or even worse, I didn't follow him. Of course the fact that I've even thought of those things -- Fuck, Chris. Get a grip.

I suppose I should get ready to go and check my console for a file I asked Richard for. I also made a couple of calls to people I trust who will hopefully be able to give me a little more insight into what may be really going on. Jim might not have really deserved getting his command so early, but he's done a hell of a job considering. He's certainly earned it now, and doesn't deserve the way the Admiralty is treating him. Hopefully, I can find a way to help him.

I should have been doing that all along.

**To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)**

Len,

I've got quite a bit of information I need to give to Jim. Can you find out if he can come back here after lunch? I tried comming him and it's apparently turned off. It will probably take about an hour or so to go over everything with him.

Chris

**To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)**

Chris,

Yeah, he's free all day -- well, except for the engagement party, of course. We'll see you at brunch in about an hour. Jim'll come back to the apartment with us and then we can all head over to the party together.

Love,  
Len

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**

_Sunday 2260.189_

Chris and Jim are in the study, discussing Starfleet politics. Bunch of bullshit, if you ask me, but I know it's an inevitable part of any organization. But I'm glad they're discussing it together. Hopefully forming an alliance or whatever the hell you do when you're involved in all that political crap. Jim could sure use Chris's help with the brass. If it was just a matter of being good at what you do, he wouldn't need anyone's help. But it's also about who you know, and schmoozing the right people, and while I don't doubt Jim could do that if he wanted to... well, he doesn't. Chris is good at that stuff and he actually enjoys it.

Anyway, I suppose I'm avoiding talking about -- writing about, whatever -- last night. It was the first time that Chris and I haven't been in sync, sexually. Before, even when we've been pissed off at each other, the sex has still been good. Hell, it's been some of our hottest.

Last night -- well, neither of us felt like it, and that was the first problem. We have so little time together that generally, to be crude, we fuck like bunnies whenever we're in the same place at the same time. Even the times that we haven't had sex, it was because we wanted to hold each other, enjoy intimacy that way, without the sexual component. Last night didn't have much to do with intimacy of any kind.

The second problem is that neither of us wanted to admit it, so we both tried to ignore our lack of desire and make love anyway. I _wanted_ to want him, but I just didn't. Not at that moment. And then it only got worse when we tried to force it. Chris ended up getting up and going to take a shower. Good lord, that was awkward. I had no idea what to say to him, so I pretended to be asleep when he got out. He spooned up behind me and started talking to me. Talking about the early days of our relationship, when it first got really serious between us. That helped some of the awkwardness, and we ended up just talking for a while, before I drifted off to sleep.

I think a lot of the problems between us lately are my fault. I know Chris resents my spending time with Jim when he and I have so little together. I understand where he's coming from, but this is really the only chance I'll have to spend some uninterrupted time with Jim, talking about this shit. Once we're back on the Enterprise, and he's back in captain mode, there's always some damn thing going on, and somehow even when there's free time, he's just not as loose, as willing to talk as when he's earthside.

And then I made it worse when I asked Chris if he knew about the way the admiralty has been out to get Jim. I know it sounded kind of accusatory. I didn't mean it that way -- oh, hell, might as well be honest. I did half wonder if Chris had known about it all along, and just didn't do anything to help because of his jealousy. I should know better. Chris may be a possessive bastard, but he values his honor above everything, and standing back while people plot against someone that he knows damn well is an amazing officer -- well, that's not his way.

Moments like that remind me how different we are, how much we still have to learn about each other. I guess it'll just take time. Time and mistakes, and picking ourselves up after our mistakes.

I wonder if it was one of those mistakes to meet Jim for coffee this morning. Chris wasn't thrilled about it, I could tell, but he didn't say anything. I think it was important for me and Jim to talk, though. To make sure we were okay, especially after those comms we exchanged. I was worried about him. For him to get that serious and emotional, he's got to be in a really bad place.

When he was late to meet me for coffee, I almost panicked. Luckily he commed me to let me know he'd overslept. I was just about to charge over to the beaming site to get back onto the Enterprise where he's staying. He showed up ten minutes later, out of breath from running and with a horrible case of bedhead. It was actually kind of sweet to know that he'd hurried so I wouldn't worry about him. We had espresso and chatted. Not about anything serious -- we were in public and neither of us was comfortable with that idea. But it was good just to reconnect, joke and laugh. It would've been pretty awkward if our first encounter after those comms was with Chris right there, scrutinizing our interactions. Or at least, we both would've felt like he was.

The redheaded barista that Jim was constantly flirting with during academy was still there. She wouldn't give him the time of day back then, but now that he's the hero of the federation, lord almighty had she changed her tune. She made it obvious that she'd _love_ to spend more time with him. It was kind of hilarious, actually, watching Jim shoot her down. He was perfectly charming and civil, of course, but he made it clear that she could take her newfound interest and shove it. Even if it wasn't very dramatic, I have to say it was kind of satisfying, seeing her get her come-uppance. Jim's no fan of fair-weather friends, that's for damn sure. Not that I blame him.

Anyway, after coffee, we stood up and Jim kind of awkwardly clasped my shoulder and held it for a few seconds. Neither of us said anything, but I knew what he meant. I ruffled his hair and he ducked away and slapped at my hand, but he knew what I meant too.

Then we went to brunch, which was almost as awkward as I'd feared. Lots of pauses and stilted small talk. Still, it could've been worse. Chris and Jim were both on their best behavior. They were obviously both making an effort, and even if it was for my sake, I appreciated it.

Things got a bit easier towards the end of brunch. Probably the mimosas helped. We all took a hovercab back to Chris's and my apartment, and that brings me back to where I started, with Chris and Jim holed up discussing Starfleet business. It's been quiet in there the whole time, which has gotta be a good sign, right?

Maybe I'll just go check on them.

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike**

_Sunday 2260.189_

What a day. I'm on the Enterprise now, in Len's quarters. He's in the main med bay, checking on a few things before the crew come aboard tomorrow. Let's see if I can get this all down before he returns.

I met Len and Jim for brunch. Damn, Jim looked tired, like he hadn't slept at all. If he wasn't heading out tomorrow, I'd be more worried about him. But he's like me, and once he's out in the black and back to his usual routine, I'm sure he'll bounce back. I'm sure Len will be keeping an eye on him more than usual too. I am pleased to say that seeing them together at brunch didn't bother me too much. Sure, there were little pangs, like when they passed food they didn't want back and forth to each other's plates, but I have to remind myself that's just familiarity. They've been doing it for over five years. If you count all the times Len and I have eaten together, it probably isn't even two months.

Brunch conversation consisted mostly of a few awkward pauses between all of us. That hurt, especially looking at Len and seeing the pain in his eyes. It got better though. We couldn't really discuss 'fleet business, but I told Jim a bit about the areas we'd be exploring and mapping and that I was looking forward to it, except for the fact that it would take a week or two for communications to relay back and forth.

He told me that Scotty and Chekov have been working on that in their 'spare' time. He doesn't think they will have a solution right away, but between the two of them he doesn't doubt they'll invent something that will improve relay times in the outer rim and beyond. I don't put it past them either.

Jim came back to the apartment with us. I took him into my office and gave him a PADD filled with my notes of all the meetings he _should_ have been privy to. I also discussed politics in general with him. Who I know for sure has it out for him, and warned him that most of the same members of the Admiralty have it out for me as well. Not all of them though, so there are ways I can still help him. When I talked to Richard earlier, he told me he was aware of some 'factions,' as he called them, that are constantly trying behind the scenes to get Jim's commission taken away from him. Richard says they have absolutely no grounds, though, so as long as Jim keeps doing the job he's doing, there isn't anything they can do.

That's a lot of pressure on him, though, and Richard agrees. He asked me point blank how Jim was handling it. I was honest and told him I wasn't exactly the best person to ask considering the problems Jim and I have been having. I told him that Jim thrives under pressure though, which is completely true. I will admit, as rundown as he seems right now, I can't exactly give him a glowing recommendation.

Richard and Jim are going to go ahead and have their meeting tomorrow morning. I think it will help Jim to see that while Richard may not be Jim's biggest supporter, he will stand by him unless he's given reason not to. I told Richard to feel free to let him know all the screw-ups and mistakes I made as a young captain, and Richard laughed and told me there wouldn't be enough time in the meeting for that. Asshole.

After our talk, we went to HQ where the Enterprise gang threw us an informal engagement party. There were only about forty people there in one of the Starfleet ambassadorial suites. It was mainly the Enterprise command crew, Philip and Allen were there, as well as a few of Len's colleagues from Starfleet Medical. Nyota and Christine decorated the room nicely, in gold and blue, including balloons all over the ceiling.

They served champagne and finger foods. And of course there was a cake, decorated with replicas of the Exeter and the Enterprise, in blue and gold. Towards the end of the party, a few of the balloons started drifting down from the ceiling. Everyone had quite a laugh when one fell and stuck to the side of Spock's head, and gave him an interesting hairdo thanks to static electricity. Of course Spock didn't find it so amusing, breaking into the scientific explanation. Uhura was snickering though under a hand she was holding over her mouth, and I'm pretty sure I saw Scotty take a holo or two.

It was nice, and I'm glad I was able to get together with them since they won't be able to come to the engagement party my family is throwing in October. I've been thinking the last couple of days, that I might see what I can do about getting Jim to that party. With the Admiralty watching him like a hawk, I'm not sure it would be a good idea, but I'll talk with Richard between now and then and see what he thinks. I know Jim hasn't used any personal leave since taking command, other than required shore leave, so he certainly has it coming. Of course, this all depends on what's going on in the neutral zone. I know it would mean a lot to Len, and honestly, it would mean a lot to me too.

Well, I think I'm going to wander down to med bay and haul him out of there. It's our last night together, and I want to be with him every minute I can.

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**

_Monday 2260.190_

It's about 0400 and I can't sleep. At this point I don't even know if it's worth it to try to sleep anymore. Well, whether or not I sleep, it's worth it to lie in my bed on the Enterprise with Chris, so after I finish this up I'll get back in bed.

Yesterday afternoon was good. Jim and Chris seemed to have a good talk, or at least they both finished it without any blood or bruises, so I'm going to count it as a win. Then we headed over to HQ for the engagement party that Christine and Nyota set up for us. It was nice. I'm not really one for socializing, but they kept it small, only people I knew. Bridge crew, sickbay crew, plus Philip and Allen. I'll have to thank Christine for that later. If it'd been up to Nyota, half of Starfleet would've been there.

I'll also have to thank Christine for the fact that Commander Sato wasn't there. I may have dropped a comm to Christine and hinted that I'd rather Sato not be present, and Christine made it happen. Pretty typical of her, actually. She's damn good at interpreting my grumbles and anticipating what I need, whether it's a laser scalpel or a "misplaced" invitation.

Anyway, everyone there was someone I'd count as a friend. Well, I'm not sure about Spock. But other than that. It was kind of a strange moment. These are the people in my life who are closest to me, who mean the most to me, including the best friend I've ever had and the man I'm going to marry. And six years ago, I didn't know a single one of them. I never expected, when I started building my life over from scratch as a hung-over Starfleet recruit, that I'd actually one day be happier and more fulfilled than I ever was in my old life. As some long-dead philosopher once said, "What a long, strange trip it's been."

After the party wound down, Chris and I headed back to the apartment. I packed up my things for beaming aboard the Enterprise, and good lord, was that depressing. The closer it gets, the more I dread the separation from Chris.

We had a light dinner out on the balcony -- neither of us was very hungry since we'd had platefuls of those dainty little appetizers at the party. We were both in a subdued mood, not talking much. I was pretty much just pushing food around my plate when suddenly Chris stood up and grabbed my hand. He said "come on, come with me," and dragged me inside. Then he sat down on the sofa with his back against the arm, spread his legs, and tugged me down until I was sitting on the couch between his legs, with my back resting against his chest. He wrapped his arms around my waist, and tucked his chin onto my shoulder. I laced my fingers through his on my stomach and leaned my head back against his shoulder. We just sat there together like that, not talking, just relaxing into each other. Reconnecting, it felt like.

I actually dozed off for a little while, and when I drifted back, Chris was nuzzling my neck, murmuring "God, Len, I love you. I love you so much. I need you. I don't think I could live without you. Fuck, that's pathetic, but it's true. Don't ever leave me, okay?"

I mumbled back something like "Won't. Love you too." Chris froze in place, and then I realized that he hadn't meant for me to hear him. After a minute, he relaxed, and then he clutched his arms around me so hard I thought he was going to crack one of my ribs. His face was still turned against my neck and he just held me like that for several minutes. Finally he let me go and said "All right. Time to head up to the Enterprise. Get your stuff and give me a minute to pack an overnight bag." His voice was kind of thick, but I didn't say anything, just got up and went to get my duffel.

By the time he got back from packing his bag, he was collected again. It was a nice evening, so we walked over to the beaming site together, our hands brushing together with every step. After we transported up, I got Chris settled in my quarters and went to check out sickbay.

Of course the morons who did the resupplying screwed it up, and we had too many doses of some drugs and not enough of others. We were particularly short of the only antibiotic in our arsenal that Jim's not allergic to, so I put a call through to Starfleet to tell them that no way we were going to be leaving spacedock without the medicines I needed to keep the ship's captain alive. I had to go through three different levels of bureaucrats, but I finally found someone who had authority to get the drugs delivered, and he promised that they'd be here first thing in the morning.

Sometime while I was in the process of reaming out the morons who'd caused the problem and were now disclaiming all responsibility for fixing it, Chris came in to see what I was up to. He had this glint in his eye while I was cussing and hollering at the jackasses in Resupply -- half amusement and, if I'm not mistaken, half arousal. After I finally hung up on the last of the idiots, he walked over and stood between me and my vidcomm screen, and leaned down and kissed the living daylights out of me. Then he said, "Come on, Len. Enough work. Let's go back to your quarters."

If our attempt at sex the other day wasn't very satisfying, we certainly made up for it last night. It was... well, the only word I can think of is explosive. We kissed and touched and teased each other until we were both half-crazy. Then Chris tried to get me to fuck him, but I wasn't having any of that. I had to feel his cock inside of me, feel him pounding into me with my legs over his shoulders and our eyes locked. So I told him so, in extremely filthy detail. I wasn't even done talking when he put his hand over my mouth and told me to stop or he was going to come just from my description. I nipped his hand and told him that if he wanted me to shut up he was going to have to make me. So he did. He fucked me hard, got us both right up the edge and then stopped moving altogether. He did that again and again until I was begging him, whimpering and pleading with him to finish, to come inside of me and let me come. He was merciless, though, and did it at least twice more before he finally grabbed my cock, fisted it, and told me to come for him. I did, instantly. My clenching around him pulled him over the edge too. His back arched and I swear he howled as he shot inside of me. We collapsed into a heap of sweaty limbs, both of us shuddering.

He wanted to get up and clean us up a few minutes later, but I wouldn't let him. I wanted his come to leak out of my ass and stain the sheets, wanted our sweat to soak into them too, so that when I sleep in this bed, I'll smell him all around me. He just smiled without saying anything, but I could tell he liked that idea. That I'd be lying in sheets that he'd marked with his scent.

After a little while, he fell asleep. I was too wound up, though, from all the things that have happened this shore leave, and the dread of being away from Chris for the next several months, and worry over Jim as well. Nothing I could do about the first two, but I figured I could at least check on Jim. So I kissed Chris and when he was halfway awake, I told him that I was going to check on Jim but I'd be back in a few minutes. He just mumbled "'kay" and was already back asleep by the time I got myself decent and left my quarters.

I went to Jim's quarters and buzzed him -- he was getting ready for bed and looked exhausted. I asked him if he needed anything to help him sleep, but he said he had a feeling he was going to be out like a light as soon as his head touched the pillow. Got to admit I'm glad, because I don't like giving anyone too many sleeping meds, and especially Jim. Not just because of his body's unpredictable reaction to drugs, but because the very last thing he needs right now is any hint or rumor of a chemical dependency. The bastards at HQ would have a field day with that.

He asked what the hell I was doing on his doorstep when he knew for a fact that I had Chris squirreled away in my quarters. So I said good night and came back here. And now I'm getting sleepy again myself, so I'm going to finish this up and get back in bed with Chris.

Fuck, next time I write in this thing, I'll be thousands of light years away from him. I'm not sure how I'm going to get through it.

  



	38. He Did Not Choose to Leave the Oyster Bed (Part 35 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The correspondence and personal journals of Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy. Shore leave is over. :(

_**Trek Fic: He Did Not Choose to Leave the Oyster Bed (Pike/McCoy, R)**_  
 **Title:** He Did Not Choose to Leave the Oyster Bed (Part 35 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** R-ish  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** Around 5200  
 **Summary:** The correspondence and personal journals of Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy. Shore leave is over. :(  
 **A/N:** We're sorry this part took so long! Please don't hit us. /o\

  


**To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)**

Dear Len,

First of all, no I'm not drinking. You made me promise when I left the Enterprise this morning, and I'm keeping my word. That doesn't mean I don't want to. Especially since Scotty brought me back that bottle of Old Pulteney whiskey from his trip back home.

I sat in our apartment for awhile tonight. Literally just sat on the couch staring off into space. I wasn't quite sure what to do with myself. Funny how two years ago I relished the quiet times, just me on the sofa and a bottle of wine and a good book on my PADD. Other than the wine, I had no desire for any of it. If you were here doing the same, it would be different. Everything is different now -- All because of you.

See, I can be a morose bastard even without the alcohol. I'm fine though. Really. I came up to the Exeter about an hour ago, did some work, and now I'm going to turn in. I like knowing that you'll still get this before bed. That you'll read it and fall asleep knowing that I'm missing you already.

I have more to say, but I'm going to keep this short for now. And I don't want this to be that morose comm I would have sent if I was drinking. So just know that I love you. Know that I'm thinking about you.

Keep yourself safe, Len. And Jim too.

Love you, honey,

Chris

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike**   
_Tuesday 2260.191_

It's been a busy morning here at HQ, which has been good for me. I managed to sleep five hours on the Exeter before I gave up and beamed here. Better than I expected with Len gone, but not what I need. Sure, I'm feeling remarkably better than when shore leave started. I know I still need to sleep more, and I'm sure Philip can adjust the medications I'm taking to help with that until I'm used to sleeping without Len again.

I've been thinking a lot this morning, well, and last night. I want to spend these three months getting myself back to my peak health. I told Philip when I talked to him briefly my plans and he just shook his head at me and laughed. Mentioned something about how the gym would be an excellent way to work off my extra energy. Asshole. He of course told me I needed to wait until my full physical later this week, but he'd help me make a workout plan. In the meantime he told me to swim as much as I'd like -- Well, actually he said that and then reminded me "within reason". He knows me too well.

I should back up here. I guess I'm trying to avoid talking about Len leaving. I'll have to say that it was much harder letting him go this time. Not that it's ever been easy, but this shore leave has been especially -- well, emotional for both of us. Him meeting my family, spending the time in Georgia, and everything with Jim. Add in my idiocy with my meds and top it off with our engagement, as hard as it was to let him go, in some ways I think we both need some time away from each other again. Some perspective. Knowing that doesn't make me miss him any less though.

Our last night together was wonderful. We certainly made up for the disaster in the bedroom from the night before. I do wish he'd fucked me, but I'm not complaining at all. I thought of waking him up yesterday morning and having him fuck me before I left, but he looked so peaceful. So I just wrapped myself up around him until his alarm went off an hour before crew were scheduled to start arriving. After that, we each took a quick shower and had breakfast, both of us a little dour. Before we left his quarters, he pulled me into his arms, and we just held each other for a few minutes. He told me he loved me, that he wasn't going anywhere, and that the three months would fly by.

We walked hand in hand to the transporter room. I kissed him goodbye, lingering more than any man my age should. I didn't care that the transporter officer saw us. I didn't see anyone but Len. I told him I loved him, and to comm me today if he had time, but I told him I knew he'd be busy before they depart this afternoon. He nodded and squeezed my hand as I stepped up on the pad. We both tried to smile as I disappeared, but I know we both forced it. A split second before I disappeared in the swirl of light, I saw command gold appear in the doorway. It actually comforted me that Jim was going to be there for Len.

I went right to work and my scheduled meetings. I had lunch with Admiral Nogura, an ally of mine, trying to find out anything he might know about what's going on with Jim. He's not completely sold on Jim having his commission, but he's not unfair. He mentioned he saw Jim with Admiral Barnett earlier that day, and I told him a little about what's been going on. He certainly wasn't surprised, but reminded me that people aren't exactly thrilled that I have a command again either. We didn't get to talk long; he was about to leave to New Vulcan for a series of meetings about the mess that happened in the neutral zone with the Exeter. It's been quiet there since, almost too quiet. Not a sign of the Romulans or Klingons.

He also told me that the Admiralty was purposely sending the Enterprise out there now to see what the Romulans will do. While I didn't know that for sure, I had suspected. Even my Admiral status doesn't make me privy to everything, since I miss a lot commanding the Exeter. But it's unusual for a ship to spend so much of its five year tour in the neutral zone. Ships are only there for a month or two for a reason. Especially since the Narada engagement. It's volatile and especially stressful for the crews. And now the Enterprise is going to be there for six months. Fuck.

I commed Jim on the Enterprise after my lunch. We talked briefly about his meeting with Richard and I told him about mine with Nogura. I think he feels better after his meeting with Richard, though he was pretty guarded. I know he still doesn't trust me entirely and I only have myself to blame for that. He didn't have a lot of time to talk with their departure imminent. He thanked me, told me Len was fine, and he promised to bring him back to me safely. That he'd do everything in his power to make happen. That is one advantage of their relationship. Like Len told me once, "Jim is always going to come and get me and I'd do the same for him." I truly think I'm more envious of that now than jealous. It's a fine line, but I'm learning.

Anyway, this entry is all over the place. Needless to say, I survived yesterday. I will admit that when an announcement came over the speakers at HQ that the Enterprise was leaving spacedock, I actually felt a little tug in my heart. I don't know how to explain it. It hasn't happened before and this will sound a little ridiculous, but I swear it's like a piece of me is missing now. I'd be worried if I was writing in a paper journal that I'd start drawing little hearts in the margin -- Of course the fact that I'm even thinking about it -- Jesus, Chris.

Len's ring has been mostly green, with a couple of red moments yesterday. I had to chuckle wondering who was on the receiving end of his tirades. No doubt someone in sickbay that crossed him, or god help them if they didn't deliver the drugs he needed. It must have all worked out in the end, because I know Len wouldn't let the ship leave if they hadn't delivered what Jim needs. Though that confrontation might have been interesting to see.

Now I think I'll finish up. I have some data to transmit to Jim, a few comms to write, and then I think I'll head home early to take a swim. I'm due at Philip and Allen's house for dinner and then Len is supposed to vidcomm me at 2200. I know it's only been a little more than a day, but I can't wait to see him.

**To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)**

Dear Chris,

It was good to see you last night, even if only on vidcomm. I'm sorry if I seemed preoccupied. You know how it is getting ready for a departure, and getting everyone back into a routine the first few days. I've been keeping busy, which helps with the separation, but damnit Chris, it's still hard. I miss you.

Jim's been trying to keep me distracted, both with busywork, and by acting like a hyperactive clown when no one's around who needs to see him being captainly. He's working on his impressions of some of the Admiralty. He's a pretty good mimic, actually. He even got a couple chuckles out of me, and you'd think from the look of triumph on his face that he'd been declared People's "Hottest Human." Come to think of it, I'm pretty sure he was.

My ring's been gray swirled with yellow. So I'm guessing you're feeling down, but keeping busy? God, darlin', I wish I could be there with you.

Good lord, now _I'm_ getting morose. Let's see, what else has been going on with me. I finally got the situation with the med stocks sorted out with those idiots in Resupply. Is it wrong that when I was wrangling with the regional director of resupply at HQ, I casually dropped into conversation that I had to go in a few minutes because I had a vidcomm scheduled with my fiancé, Admiral Christopher Pike? You should've seen that idiot's face blanch. He couldn't babble fast enough that he was sorry and he'd have the meds delivered within the hour. And sure enough, they were there in 45 minutes. Guess being with you has advantages beyond the obvious.

Speaking of those advantages, we'll still be in comm range for a couple of days -- can you set up a secure line for us tonight? I've got to see your body again, hear you coming for me, at least once more before we're out of range. Damn it, now I'm hard, just thinking about that, and I'm sitting here in my office. I think I'd better engage the lock and take care of this before I go out there and face my staff and patients.

Let me know about the vidcomm, all right? I should sign off now since I'm still on duty and I'm going to need a few minutes here to beat off, imagining that I'm sinking into your tight little ass.

I'll talk to you soon. I love you, darlin'.

Yours,  
Len

**To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)**

Dear Len,

Jesus, Len. I read your comm in a meeting with Admiral Komack while he took a call. I had to think some pretty disgusting thoughts to tamp down my erection before I got up when we were done. Of course I should know better, but since it's been awhile, I forgot how hot our comms could be. Even though that one wasn't very descriptive compared to usual, it only took me a moment thinking of you sitting in your office with your cock in your hand to get me hard and aching for you.

I've set up a secure line for tonight and tomorrow. We're now leaving at 0500 on Friday instead of Thursday afternoon. Something about an ion storm hitting the path we're taking so we need to wait for it to pass.

I had to laugh at the response you got from the regional director at resupply. Lieutenant Commander Ashcroft was my yeoman the first three years I was first officer on the Republic. Let's just say after that experience, he was happy to take a job back on earth and he steadily moved up through the ranks. So believe me, use my name if you have to with him. In fact, I may pop over and pay him a visit before we take off just for old time's sake. It will be interesting to see if he still shakes in his boots when I raise my voice.

Now, I get to go have my physical at Starfleet Medical with Philip. It was moved up from Thursday morning as I have a conference comm with Nogura and the Vulcan High Council. I'll make sure to have Philip forward the entire report to you. I'm feeling good though, Len. I know I still have a ways to go, but I'm going to work on that the next three months. If we only have three or four days together in three months, I want to be in peak health. I may not let you out of bed the entire time.

Be careful out there.

Love you,

Chris

**To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)**

Dear Len,

Attached find the recording of the session that Dr. Elliott had with Jim. I really don't know what to say. I'm almost afraid to say anything, because while I may agree with some of the things she said, it didn't give her the right to put Jim through what she did.

Maybe even that is saying too much, but even you know that Jim has issues. Those issues haven't interfered with his command. In fact in his case, I think they even make him a better commander. I know that Jim doesn't want to pursue anything against her, but I'm just telling you again, I'll will back you up, both of you, whatever you decide.

It felt wrong to listen to the session. I know Jim gave permission, but -- Damn Len, I almost wish I hadn't. I know I needed to -- I think it was important for me to hear myself, since in some way I did doubt Jim before. If anything, Jim held back and I know you're going to be angry. At him, at me, and especially at yourself. Just remember, he _needs_ you. I see that and maybe this is helping me understand that a little more.

Jim never had anything we did. He never had parents who gave a damn about him. He never had stability. He was on his own once his grandfather passed, and sadly, that was when he was far too young. I may not be especially close to my parents, to my family, but I really didn't need to be. They were always there and I knew that. Maybe I've even taken them for granted all this time -- I don't know.

I know you haven't had it easy either, and I can see how easy it would have been for you and Jim to bond over your losses, however different. I bonded with Annie the same way, though I wouldn't say that I'm overly close to her. Not like I am with you.

What I'm trying to say here, Len, is that I'm sorry. I need to do better. For both of you. And Jim's going to need both of us. He has a lot ahead of him to deal with if he's truly going to become the captain I know he can be.

I love you. If you don't feel like vidcomming tonight after listening to the session -- I understand. We can have extra time tomorrow, if your schedule allows.

Always,

Chris

**To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)**

Dear Chris,

Good lord, I'm almost afraid to listen to the session now. I'm not sure I want to know the extent of what that incompetent hack said to Jim. I will, though, because I need to know what happened if I'm going to help repair the damage she caused.

But I think I'll wait until we're out of comm range before I listen. You know how I'm given to flying off the handle, and I really don't want to do that while I'm still in comm range of earth. And I don't want it to be hanging over us when we talk tonight.

But listen, Chris, whatever Elliott said to Jim, that's not your fault. Yeah, the fact that you doubted him hurt him a lot. But you didn't tell Elliott to screw with his head, and you had no way of knowing that she would.

Anyway, that's all I'm going to say about that for now. I want to see you, and I want to talk to you, and I don't want it to be about Jim. Jim needs us, yeah, and he'll always be an important part of my life, and I hope yours too, but you and me, Chris, we're about more than our respective relationships with Jim.

How are your folks? Your grandmother? Tell them I said hello next time you comm them. And how's Annie? I hope to god that she's keeping the wedding plans as simple as possible. I want a wedding, not a circus. You were going to have dinner with Philip and Allen last night, right? How was that? Is Allen going to be earthside for a while or is he shipping out too?

Yeah, I'm using small talk to avoid thinking about how damn much I miss you. My sheets still smell like you and in a way that helps, but in a way it makes it even worse, knowing that you're so far away and that it'll be so long before I actually get to sleep in your arms again. The three months will go fast, I know they will, but right now it feels like forever. And with such a long patrol in the neutral zone -- well, you know how unstable things there are. I hope we make it back in one piece, is all. I hope you do too. I can't even imagine how I'd cope if something happened to you.

Shit, now I'm just getting morbid. I'm going to go get some dinner and then it'll be time for our vidcomm. I'm looking forward to that an embarrassing amount.

I love you.

Yours,  
Len

**To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)**

Morning honey,

Sorry I was drowsing off on you last night. I promise I'll take a nap today so I'll be ready for our secure vidcomm tonight. I've been running from morning to night, trying to get us ready to depart. I've been purposely keeping myself busy too, and might have gone a little overboard.

Yes, I did have dinner with Philip and Allen and the kids, sans Matthew and his new wife, on Tuesday night. They are all good. Philip and Allen seem to be getting along okay. I can tell there is still some tension there, but I'm sure they will work through it. Allen will be home for two more weeks before he leaves for six months for the research base in the Laurentian System. There really isn't any need for him to be home anymore. The kids are all in school and self-sufficient. I think Philip is just having a really hard time since Kianna joined Starfleet. I think if Philip had his way, they'd adopt again, whereas Allen is looking forward to when Philip finally 'retires' so they can travel. Considering Philip says he's staying on another tour with me -- Well, I think that's a bone of contention between them too. Ah, the life of Starfleet officers.

My parents are well. They just took off to Paris for another art show. Annie says everything is all taken care of at the Georgia place. Grandma is busy in Florida practicing for a tango competition. Can you imagine? Knowing her, she'll probably win. She's a determined old gal. Which is good, it keeps her young. Sometimes I think she'll outlive us all.

I have no idea what's going on with the wedding plans. I had asked my mom to drop it during shore leave, so I expect to be bombarded with comms once I head out. The only thing she asked me when I talked to her last is if we were all set for the engagement party in October and I told her yes. I told her we were going to try to get Jim home for it too, but that would be dependent on what's going on with the Enterprise's mission.

Speaking of your mission. I don't think I have to tell you that I'm worried about you guys. Tensions are high. The Enterprise is an easy target. I know that Jim is hyperaware as always, but -- Okay, I'm just going to say it. I'm really worried about his mental state, Len. Do you honestly think he's okay? I trust you, and if you think he's fine, I'll take your word for it. But after you listen to the session, please, think about it. I know it would kill him to lose his command -- I'm just worried, Len. I know he'd rather harm himself than let harm come to anyone else, but just keep an eye on him. I know you will, and I know you'd never let your relationship with him interfere with doing your job. Just be careful there. I'm not the only one aware of the close relationship you two have. And that's all I'm going to say.

I'm going to head into HQ now. Have a couple meetings and then heading up to the Exeter. I'll probably be there tonight when we comm. First though, I'm going to go shower and jerk off thinking of you -- Your mouth on my cock. God, I miss your mouth already.

I can't wait to see you tonight. All of you.

Chris

**To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)**

Dear Chris,

By the time you get this, we'll be out of realtime comm range. I wanted to write to you about our last vidcomm, to tell you how much I enjoyed it, and how good it was to see your gorgeous body and your beautiful face as you were coming for me.

But instead, I'm in a funk, partly over missing you and partly over Jim's session with Elliott. You asked me about Jim's mental state, and if I'd answered before I listened, I would have said without hesitation that he's fine. But that goddamn quack really did a number on him, Chris. I can't believe the things she said and I can't believe he just sat there and took it. Hell, he even said he agreed with her several times. Shit.

So the answer is, I don't know. To all outward appearances, he's the same cocky brilliant asshole we know and are completely exasperated by. But this has to have affected him, probably more than he realizes or is willing to admit. Right now, he's fine to command. But I'll keep a close eye on him. And I appreciate the warning about being under constant scrutiny - goddamned political bullshit. Glad you're on our side.

I'm going to corner Jim after shift tonight, ply him with bourbon, and make him talk to me about this crap with Elliott. I suspect he's not going to want to pursue a formal ethics complaint against her, but at the very least I'm going to write to her and tell her if I ever hear of this kind of shit again, I'll pull her before an ethics board so fast her head will spin. It won't be enough, but I'll back Jim's call, whatever he decides. Plus, I don't want to let her fuck with his head anymore by making him rehash all of this for an ethics hearing.

All right, enough of that. I can't count how many people have stopped me to congratulate me on our engagement. It's goddamn embarrassing, is what it is. Everyone seems to think it's such a romantic story, like we got engaged just so they could follow our lives like a damn soap opera. And it's ruining my reputation as a grumpy asshole. I _like_ that reputation, Chris. It cuts out half the pointless inane interactions I'd otherwise have to deal with. I think I'm just going to have to start growling at people whenever they even look like they're going to wish me congratulations. That oughta do it, at least for awhile.

So far everyone's in good spirits, but I know this tour in the neutral zone is going to take its toll. I have a feeling I'll be dealing with crew-wise stress reactions as well as all the minor injuries and illnesses that happen when a crew's tired and distracted and stretched to their limits. I guess it's better than major injuries and deaths from exploring planets with hostile inhabitants. Although I'm sure we'll have some of those too.

Okay, now I'm even irritating myself with my predictions of doom and gloom. I think I'm going to watch some of that holoporn we made of ourselves -- now that we've switched collections I have a lot of new footage to see. That oughta get my mind off of everything else.

Stay well, darlin'. And write when you can. I miss you.

Love always,  
Len

**To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)**

Dear Len,

I actually got your comm before we left. We had a few delays with getting twenty last-minute crew additions on board. Don't even get me started on that. I was not happy. Regardless, I'm sorry you're having a hard time, honey. I didn't exactly feel very good after listening to that session either. It was good for me though. It was very humbling. I don't know if I'll explain this right, but sometimes, despite knowing Jim's past, I think a lot of my jealousy over him was he always seems so damn perfect -- I know he's not. But that kid handles himself in a way I've never seen, and actually envy at times, if that makes sense. I think it will help if I start to feel jealous, or act like an ass, to listen to that session again. Remind myself that he's just like you, and me, and most importantly, that he needs both of us.

I don't know if Jim told you or not, but I talked to him for awhile via vidcomm while I was delayed. I think I have a pretty good handle on who has what agenda with him now in the Admiralty and we discussed that. He wasn't surprised, but he seems -- I don't know. I get the feeling he might think that no matter what he does, he's never going to be able to prove himself. For the record, I don't think that's true. I think there are certain people at HQ who are never going to accept him, but that's true of any captain. I think that disapproval bothers Jim more that he admits. Me, I never cared. In fact, I would say I got off on the fact that half of them were pissed when I got my command or when I made Admiral, and even more pissed when I got a ship back. I agree with you though, he's obviously fine to command, in fact I would bet his command and having you are about the only things holding him together right now. And yes, the latter stings a bit, but really, Len, I'm glad he has you.

As far as everyone congratulating you on the engagement, I have to admit that made me chuckle, thinking about you growling at people, especially the new crew who don't know you. I feel sorry for them, actually. It's been a lot of the same here. In fact I just came back from a little 'celebration' party the bridge crew put together for me. It was very nice, and I was very surprised to hear that Commander Sato put it together. By the way, in case you were wondering, my married helmsman with the pregnant wife dumped her during shore leave. He also decided to stay on Earth and teach. My new helmsman is Andorian. Neither he nor any of the rest of the command crew want anything to do with Sato sexually, and she burned her bridges with my chief engineer. This, of course, all courtesy of my yeoman who filled me in earlier. Imagine Christine Chapel and Nyota Uhura gossiping, combine them and you have my Rickie. I am finding this way more amusing than I should.

Lastly, I miss you. I think I miss you more this time than the other times. It doesn't make sense, or maybe it does. It doesn't matter, I guess. Not like it's a contest I would want to win each time we're apart. I'm already counting the days until October. I keep thinking about you lying in your bed on our last vidcomm all spread out for me, touching yourself. When you were telling me how much you missed my cock -- Fuck, Len. It's only been a few days and I swear I'm already going out of my mind. I miss your mouth. God, I love your mouth. The way you kiss me, the way your tongue feels on my cock, on my ass. I don't know if I've ever told you this before, but I have a love/hate relationship with the way you can just make me come completely undone. You strip me bare is the best way to describe it. It's both scary and amazing. Scary, because I don't know what I'd do if I lost you now.

Now look who's getting all morbid. Well, I need to head to the bridge. We'll be launching the first of four communication booster arrays in an hour. I'm sending this comm Saturday afternoon at 1330 since I don't know how long it will sit in the data packet before it's marked and goes out. Let me know how long it takes you to get it. Should be fairly quick, and hopefully with what we're launching, it won't be more than three or four days to receive comms this time.

I love you. I miss you. Stay safe. I can't wait to have you in my arms again.

Love forever,

Chris

  



	39. To Give a Hand to Each (Part 36 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The correspondence and personal journals of Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy. Plus some Jim.

_**Trek Fic: To Give a Hand to Each (Pike/McCoy, R)**_  
 **Title:** To Give a Hand to Each (Part 36 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** R-ish  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** References to/discussion of attempted rape  
 **Word Count:** Around 7800  
 **Summary:** The correspondence and personal journals of Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy. Plus some Jim.  
 **A/N:** From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) : THIS IS ALL HER FAULT. SHE DID THIS. NOT ME THIS TIME. From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/): ...Yeah, okay. Guilty as charged.

  


**To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Tuesday 2260.197

Dear Chris,

Everything out here is all right. At least it is now. I don't know if you'll get this comm before word of what happened reaches you, but I at least wanted to try.

There was a transporter malfunction of some kind. An away team was exploring one of the uninhabited chunks of rock in the neutral zone -- Spock's idea, naturally. Jim went down with the landing party -- against my advice, I might add -- and one of the dumbasses from security fell into a pit and got some kind of strange ore-dust on him. When he beamed back up, Scotty could see something was wrong and got him into decontamination. Thank god for that, or it might've been worse.

But the goddamn dust had already fucked up the transporter, apparently, and when Jim beamed back it split him into two. We didn't know it at first, but pretty soon there were reports all over the ship that Jim was acting erratically. Meanwhile, the transporter was all screwed up and the rest of the away team were stuck on the planet with a massive oncoming ice storm, so we couldn't even send shuttles to get them.

Jim showed up in sickbay and asked me -- politely! -- if he could see me in my office. That was my first clue that something was wrong. Then when we got into my office, he started crying. Not just crying but weeping -- full body sobs. He said that he was so sorry that he'd caused trouble between me and you and that he loves and needs us both. Then he started talking about how he wanted to make things right with his mother, and would I help him write a comm to her, apologizing for being a terrible son. By this time, needless to say, I was completely frantic, trying to figure out _what_ the hell was wrong with him.

Then a second Jim showed up, walked right in and sneered at the crying Jim. He started berating him, saying that he was worthless and a coward and a weakling and that he'd never do anything right, that he was a fraud who didn't deserve his command. Shit, it was goddamn painful to watch. The other half -- the non-abusive half -- just shrunk up into a little ball on the floor in the corner of my office, pulled his knees to his chest and put his head down, like he was expecting to be hit at any moment and couldn't do anything more than make himself as small of a target as possible. I knew he'd had a rough childhood, but that's a classic reaction to physical abuse. God damn it.

Then the aggressive Jim started saying that the other Jim's attachment to me was a weakness, that he'd be better off without me. That he was just going to airlock me and be done with it. I have to admit, I got chills. I really believe he would have done it. Anyway, that finally spurred the other Jim into action and they started fighting. Knock-down, drag-out vicious fight the likes of which I've never seen before, and I've seen some doozies. I thought they were going to kill each other. I was trying to get in there with a hypo but there was no way to do it - they were moving too fast. So I called security, who got them pulled apart and tossed them in separate cells in the brig.

Scotty and his team, meanwhile, had pulled some kind of mystical mumbo-jumbo with the transporter so that it could re-integrate the halves. But neither Jim would consent. They each hated the other half and each one said he'd rather die than have to rejoin the other.

I tried to talk with them -- separately, of course. I tried to convince each of them that he was a necessary part of the whole, but fuck, Chris -- they wouldn't listen to me. One Jim only wept in my arms and begged me not to make him do it, and the other one tried to lunge at my throat when I went into the cell. When I tried talking to him from outside the forcefield, he just sneered at me and wouldn't say a word.

Finally it was Spock who talked him -- them -- whatever -- into it. He talked to each of them privately. I don't know what he said or did, but he got their consent. Grudging, but consent all the same. By this time the away team was suffering from severe hypothermia, caught in the storm, about to die. Neither Jim would do anything about it -- one because he didn't know what to do and was afraid to make a wrong decision, since if the transporter was still fucked up it could kill them all, and the other one because he said they'd stood by while he was marooned alone on Delta Vega, and if he could survive that, then they could damn well survive this. Good god, Chris, he was so bitter. I felt like shit, because I stood by too. I knew he was upset about it, but I didn't know it was still weighing on him so heavily.

Anyway, Scotty got Jim reintegrated just in the nick of time and he made the decision to try beaming up the away team. Thank god, they were all okay. I had to rush them off to sickbay for emergency treatment for hypothermia, but they're all doing well now and won't suffer any long-term effects.

I don't know what's going to happen with me and Jim. After I was done treating the away team, Jim came to me and told me that he knows we need to talk about what happened, but that he's not ready yet. He asked me not to push him, said he'd come to me when he'd "processed" it, whatever that means. But against my better judgment, I said that I would honor his wishes. He did let me sedate him, though, and he's in his quarters, sleeping. He should be out for at least eight hours.

It gave me a lot of insight into what makes him tick, Chris. How much he's fighting against himself, every day, trying to reconcile the different parts of himself. How much he relies on me for stability, and how much he resents that. I don't know what to do about it, though. I hate that our friendship is hurting him, but I know he needs it too.

The other thing that happened when he was split -- God, Chris, I don't even know how to say this. Before he came to attack me in sickbay, he tried to rape his yeoman. She managed to fight him off, thank god, and gave him a giant gash on the face when she hit him with a broken mug. But he's wracked with guilt about it, and as much as she knows intellectually why it happened, she's traumatized as hell. For now, Spock has reassigned yeomen so that Rand doesn't have to interact with Jim directly. But she's already put in a request for a transfer as soon as we're back home, and I don't blame her. I tried to talk to her about it, but she didn't want to deal with me, since I'm his best friend. I don't blame her there, either. She did talk to Christine, and hopefully that'll help some.

Fuck, Chris, this was the last thing we needed at the beginning of what's going to be a stressful tour anyway. I'm sure we'll manage, because we always do, but goddamn it, I wish this hadn't happened.

And in the midst of all this shit, I'm goddamn jealous of _Spock_. That he could convince Jim when I couldn't. And that Jim doesn't seem to hold a grudge against him for marooning him on Delta Vega, only against the rest of us for not interfering to stop it. What kind of a person does that make me, that I'm even _thinking_ about that, given all that's happened and how badly everyone involved was hurt?

Anyway, that's what's been going on. I love you, Chris, and I think about you every damned minute. Stay safe out there.

Always,  
Len

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**   
_Tuesday 2260.197_

Well, that was a shitty way to start our tour of the neutral zone. What almost makes it worse is that there's no one to blame, no one Jim or I or anyone else can focus our anger on. At least it's over, and hopefully we'll be able to put it behind us. And the collateral damage is fairly limited. Yeoman Rand got the worst of it, and I'm goddamn sorry for what she went through. Other than her, the two Jims spent most of their time with me, only having passing interactions with the rest of the crew, so there's that at any rate. I've got Jim sedated right now, sleeping in his quarters.

The way the story's being passed around the ship, Jim was split into his "good" half and his "bad" half. But it's not that simple. Strong and weak is closer, but that isn't quite right either. I don't know how the hell to describe it, but it was two different halves of his personality, and he needs both. The two halves balance and even somehow enhance each other. I guess what I'm getting at is that he's more than the sum of his parts.

The long-term effects of this on him, though... I just don't know. I'm sure he's going to go through worse crap than this during his career. But for this to happen when he's just gotten his command and isn't all that confident yet, despite his cocky facade... it sure as hell isn't ideal, to say the least.

Then there's how it's going to affect our relationship. I'm not sure if he feels more ashamed of the clingy way one half behaved or the murderous way his other half behaved. And... there's more to what happened than I told Chris. When the first Jim was talking to me, one of the things he said is that he wished to god he was gay so that he could be with me and make me stay with him. He said he'd experimented with guys at the Academy, hoping that he'd get to like it so that we could be together. Just about broke my goddamn heart.

Then when the other Jim came in, he said maybe he ought to just bend me over my own desk and fuck me, see what had Pike trailing after me like I was a bitch in heat. Then he said, "Nah, I think I'll just airlock you and be done with it." But it was really that first threat that set Jim off. The other Jim, I mean. God damn, this entire situation is so unbelievably fucked up. So anyway, then they started fighting and I honestly thought they were going to tear each other to pieces.

And that, more than anything, is why Jim doesn't want to talk to me about what happened. Hell, I've got no idea what to say either. I can't believe I'm going to say this, but in a way it makes me understand where Elliott was coming from. Not that she was right to dump that all on Jim -- she absolutely wasn't. But good lord, Jim's view of me is more fucked-up than I thought it was. Part of him needs me and is paralyzed by the thought of me leaving, and the other half resents and hates that fact -- maybe even resents and hates _me_ a little. The second part of that worries me, and it really shouldn't surprise me, but it does, and it hurts. And god help me, but his dependence on me -- well, I have to admit I like that. I probably even encourage it. Me and my goddamn need to be needed. Shit, I don't know what to do about all of this.

I'm half-worried that if I tell Chris this part of it, he'd tell me that this just confirmed his belief that Jim was unfit for command and that I ought to use my authority as CMO to relieve him of duty. Even aside from that, I don't know if I should tell him the rest of my conversation with Jim -- for one thing, it's incredibly private and personal for Jim and I don't want to betray him that way. Plus, of course, it wouldn't help with Chris's jealousy over Jim. Damn it. I just don't know. Both of the people that I'd normally turn to for advice are obviously not an option in this situation. And as much as I respect Christine and Nyota and value them as friends and colleagues, there's no way in hell I'm going to share something like that about Jim -- their captain -- with either of them.

Guess I'll just have to muddle through on my own. But for now, enough bitching. It's time for bed. I just hope I can sleep.

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**   
_Wednesday 2260.198_

Just finished knocking some sense into Jim with Spock's help, of all people. Apparently when Jim woke up this morning he went straight to Spock and told him that he was removing himself from command and that Spock was acting captain, effective immediately. Spock tried to convince him that "that course of action was illogical" but Jim wouldn't listen. So eventually he at least convinced Jim to hold off on making it official until he'd had a little more time to think about it. Then Spock came straight to me. According to him. Actually I suspect he went to Nyota and she told him he was going to have to deal with me. The look on his face when he asked me for help -- it was like he'd sucked a lemon.

We strategized a bit, and we came up with a pretty clever plan, if I do say so myself. We used reverse psychology. Pretty primitive tactic, but it worked like a charm. We called Jim into my office in sickbay, said we both had to talk to him. Then I told Jim that I supported his decision to step down, that it was obvious he was in no shape to command, and that maybe he should be confined to quarters until we could get back to the nearest starbase. I said of course we shouldn't continue with our mission in the neutral zone. I'll never forget the way his face hardened and his eyes sparked when I said that. Anyway Spock and I staged a fight -- well, that part wasn't hard, I can't stand the arrogant bastard -- and the more I insisted that Jim wasn't in any shape mentally to command, the madder he got. Finally he snapped and told me off, said that he was perfectly capable of command and that of _course_ we weren't going to abandon our mission, the Federation needed us, etc. etc.

He gave me such a pissed-off look before he stomped out of my office. If looks could kill, I'd be a smoldering hole in the floor. Then about half an hour later, he stomped back _into_ my office, all wounded indignation, and said "That whole thing was a setup, wasn't it?" I admitted it was, and for a moment I thought he was going to deck me. Then he threw his head back and laughed. That was good to hear. I know we need to talk, and I know this is going to stay with him, but at that point, I knew he was going to be okay. I can't even describe how relieved I am.

  
 **To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date sent: Friday 2260.200

Dear Len,

I got your comm this morning. I've been at a loss for what to say all day. I still am. I haven't been able to access the official report yet. I'm assuming it's just delayed getting to me like everything else. These communication arrays seem to be doing their job, and it looks like three days from where we are to you.

All I can say is that I'm sorry, Len. I know there is nothing I can do or even say. If I was there right now, I'd just pull you into my arms and listen because I can only begin to imagine the hell you went through. I will say this, though, I have been through some strange experiences myself during my tenure. I've done things under the influence of alien control that I'm not proud of. The only thing I can say to you, and to Jim, is that you have to remember who you are. You have to know that it wouldn't have happened if you were yourselves. It's not an excuse, it's a fact. A hard fact to swallow, but nevertheless the truth.

Jim is going to be going through hell for awhile. I think it took me a good six weeks the first time something like that happened to me before I felt any semblance of normal. To everyone else, I seemed fine. You just have to give him time, Len. And reassure him you still love him despite what happened.

As far as your jealousy of Spock. I get that it probably doesn't feel good that Spock was able to talk 'the Jims' into reintegrating. But you have to remember, you're so close to Jim that it makes sense that Spock was able to reason with them instead of you. Considering the situation, you'd probably be the last person to be able to get them to agree. The Jim that was crying in your office was probably convinced you were better off without him and he should just be allowed to die so he wasn't a burden to you anymore. Spock, of all people, knowing their rocky beginnings and the trust they are still forming -- It makes perfect sense that someone who's not emotionally invested to be able to reason with both of them. It had nothing to do with you. Spock certainly doesn't mean anything close to what you mean to Jim. You know that.

Still, I understand the feelings. Feelings are completely irrational, by their nature. Usually the more I would try to understand them -- I'd end up feeling even worse because I couldn't. Just don't let it stand in the way of making sure Jim is okay. You might need to ply Jim with more bourbon, or, hell, just hypo his ass and get him to talk to you. I don't know how your talk with him about the session with Elliott went, or if that even happened.

Fuck, Len. Jim didn't need this to happen right now. Of course, you didn't either. I'm so sorry. What can I do? If I could real time comm with Jim, I would. What I'll do instead is send him a few files of reports and my logs from when things like this happened to me. Maybe it will help. He might not want to read it right now, but hopefully at some point he will. One thing I want to caution you on greatly, though, is that if he's anything like me, he's not going to be at all rational. Since I don't even know how soon you commed me after -- God, it's only been a week since I left. I was wondering why I hadn't heard from you. Not a good way to start your tour in the neutral zone. Fuck. What was he thinking going down there after you told him not to? I thought he had gotten better about that? Fuck.

I'm sorry. I'm not angry at Jim. I'm just feeling helpless and frustrated and wondering why Jim can't seem to catch a break lately. I think what bothered me the most about what you said is when he wanted to contact Winona. That sent chills up my spine. That and how he cowered in the corner. I know you know more than I do about his childhood, but I do know a few things. I picked up a lot when I was doing my research and interviews of the Kirk family, including Winona, for my dissertation. Probably a lot more than they thought they'd revealed. From what I know about him and Winona -- Well, what he said about being a terrible son? Fuck, Len. It comes from the fact that she never believed him and I'm pretty sure she told him that, flat out. He acted out in response -- of course he did. Having said that, and maybe I've said too much, but I'm more worried now than ever about Jim with this happening. Just take care of him. I know you will, but trust me when I say you might need to ignore pretty much anything he's telling you about needing time. Time to beat himself up about it alone is not what he needs. Believe me.

I'm going to send those files to Jim right now along with a brief note. I don't want to say much, as I don't think hearing from me will be helpful right now. And please, Len. Stop blaming yourself for Delta Vega. I think if you think about it rationally, you know Jim doesn't blame you either. While him being apart like that does show you a lot of things about him, it's not _him_ , Len. It wasn't real or rational or necessarily true. Because we both know that Jim would never rape anyone. He would never intentionally harm anyone. He'd rather harm himself first. And God help me, that's what I'm worried about the most right now, if he can't get his mind past all this.

I'm sure you realize most of this. I'm sure you're keeping an eye on him. Please, Len, just take care of him even if he may not want you there. Maybe my reasons are somewhat selfish, but I know if you lost him -- Well, I know I'd lose you too.

I love you. More than anything. Please let me know if there is anything at all I can do. I want to help. I love Jim. My heart is just broken for him right now, and for you.

Take care of yourself, honey. You'll both be in my constant thoughts and write me as soon as you can with updates.

Always,

Chris

 **To: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date sent: Friday 2260.200

Dear Jim,

I know nothing I can say right now will make anything that just happened any better. But I'm attaching some files -- Reports from when things happened to me. Times I did things I would never do if I was myself. I just want you to know that I understand, and that nothing you did or happened is your fault. Those two people were not you.

I know it will take time for you to believe that, make some semblance of peace with it. But you will. I promise. In the meantime, let Len help you. He's worried and scared to death about you right now, and frankly so I am.

I love you, Jim. You're important to me. I know I haven't done a very good job of showing that as of late, but it doesn't change the fact that I do.

If you want to discuss anything in my reports, or talk more about this, feel free to write me. I want to help.

Love,

Chris

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**   
_Saturday 2260.201_

Well, Jim and I finally talked. I had to run him down and corner him -- for the most prominent person on the ship, he certainly can be elusive when he wants. I finally found him inside a Jeffries tube in engineering, puttering with something and making Scotty crazy. I dragged him off to my quarters (more booze there) and told him we had to talk. He got flippant and said "Bones, nothing good ever starts with those words." Then he tried to tell me he had a senior staff meeting and had to go. I reminded him that I'm _part of_ the goddamn senior staff and if there was a meeting I sure as hell would know about it. He kind of deflated at that. He's really not on top of his game if that lame excuse was the best he could come up with.

He said he needed fortification for this, so we had a couple rounds without talking. Then he motioned for me to go ahead and I said, "All right. I listened to the recording of the session, so let's talk about the bullshit that charlatan so-called-doctor laid on you." He blinked at that. Definitely wasn't expecting it. Score one for me.

I asked him if he wanted to pursue a complaint against Elliott and he said no, he'd rather just forget the whole thing. She deserves to have her license revoked but if Jim doesn't want to go through that process, I'm not going to push him. Then I asked if there was anything he wanted to talk about related to the session with Elliott, and he said "Nope!" No surprise there. I said "Wanna try again? How about the things she said about your parents?"

She'd told him that he had "parental abandonment issues." Thank you, Doctor Obvious. She said that since his father went out in a blaze of glory, it was apparent that he was trying to do the same thing, and that he was only going to drag me down with him. Then she said that he obviously needed parental attention and guidance, and that it wasn't fair of Jim to look to me or Chris for that. So then, _then_ she suggested he try to "reconcile" with Winona.

I reminded him of this -- I mean, obviously he remembered but he wasn't going to bring it up unless I made him talk about it. I told him again that she had no right to say what she did, that she didn't know him at all, as a person or a patient, and was totally unqualified to offer those opinions.

He got quiet and said "Well, she kind of has a point about the whole 'blaze of glory' thing." What could I say to that? So I told him that his future isn't predestined, and if he just took some basic precautions with his safety, stopped throwing himself into harm's way, he'd be much less likely to end up a dead hero at a young age. He said he'd think about it. That's about the best I was going to get out of him on that.

I asked him about his mom, whether what Elliott said had triggered the thing about comming her when he'd been split. I told him that no matter what, he wasn't a terrible son. He started shifting around uncomfortably and said, "Bones, I don't wanna talk about that right now. Some other time." I told him okay, but that I'd hold him to the promise of talking about it some other time. Besides, we had bigger fish to fry - we needed to talk about what had happened with the split, and we both knew that was going to be a goddamned awkward conversation.

Then I said, "So," and with that one word, his whole body tensed up. Then I leered as obnoxiously as I could (and that's pretty damn obnoxious, having watched Jim do it for years) and said "Wanna fuck, find out what it's like?" He obviously wasn't expecting that and he blinked at me a couple of times before he burst into laughter. I added that if he really wanted to, I could arrange a threesome with him and me and Chris. He wrinkled up his whole face at that and said "Ew! Ew! No! Gross!" Lord, it's easy to push his buttons.

Anyway, that broke the tension. He asked me if I'd told Chris what happened. I said that I'd told him some of the stuff, but not any of the sexual parts of what had happened between us. I said I didn't know whether I should tell him that stuff or not. Jim didn't say anything but he looked so freaked out that I told him I wouldn't tell Chris. The more I think about it, the more I think it's the right decision. There's just no good that could possibly come from telling Chris about that, and it would be such a huge invasion of Jim's privacy. Anyway Jim thanked me profusely.

Then he said that he hoped I knew that he wasn't pining for me or anything. I waved it off and told him that I was so damn hot, it was only natural that he'd wondered what it'd be like. And I told him that he didn't have to change a damn thing about himself to get me to stick around, certainly not his sexual orientation -- not that such a thing is possible -- and that I'd be _pissed_ if I ever found out that he'd tried to do that again. I told him that I liked him just fine, and he made a great best friend as an immature loudmouth tomcat but that we'd never have worked out as anything more anyway. Not that I hadn't ever thought about it, before I met Chris, and I admitted that to him. He asked whether I had ever fantasized about his "hot bod" during the Academy, and I rolled my eyes and told him to get over himself. It was a tacit admission, though, and he damn well knew it. He grinned. I think it made him feel better that he wasn't the only one who'd at least thought about it. Also made him feel better to know that despite whatever curiosity, lust, whatever you want to call it, that's between us, it's never going to go anywhere, and so it's safe to have those feelings. I don't know if that makes sense, but that's the best way I can explain it.

Then I asked him about what had happened with Rand, how he was dealing with that. He said, "How do you think I'm dealing with it? I'm dealing the best I can. I feel like shit." I asked him if he'd gotten a comm from Chris with the reports of things he'd done while he wasn't himself, and he said he had, and that it had helped a little. I reminded him that he would never have acted on his impulse if he wasn't split, that he himself never had any intent to hurt Rand. But he said that a crime isn't measured by someone's intent but by the consequences. So then I reminded him that Chris had given Nero the codes to earth's protection grid. If Jim hadn't intervened, that would've meant the destruction of the entire planet, something far worse than Jim had ever contemplated even in the blackest depths of his soul, and according to Jim's logic Chris would have been guilty of genocide, billions of people dead. Jim got indignant and said that that wasn't Chris's fault, that he'd never have done that if he was in control of himself, and I told him what was sauce for the goose was sauce for the gander. He shut up and glared at me. At least I think I gave him something to think about.

That was the toughest part of the conversation out of the way, so both of us felt a little lighter. He apologized for threatening to kill me, and I told him there had been plenty of times when I'd have cheerfully tossed him out an airlock, as he damn well knew, if I hadn't had any brakes on my impulses. And then as for the clinginess, I could see he didn't want to bring it up, so I told him that I need him as much as he needs me and that I like the way our friendship is, and if that means I'm a little fucked-up in the head, then so be it. He said "We'll both be fucked-up together then, huh?" and I said hell, yeah.

There was one more thing that was bugging me, so I asked him how in god's name Spock had gotten the two halves to agree to reintegrate. He groaned and told me that Spock had logicked him into it. He'd told the "mean" Jim that if they stayed separate, he'd be going to a penal colony for the rest of his life, and that was a fate worse than death. When that failed to convince him, he told him that the "nice" Jim _wouldn't_ be imprisoned, so from then on, the public face of Jim was going to be the indecisive, weak, clingy Jim, and that's who everyone would think of as "James Kirk," and he wouldn't be able to do a damn thing about it.

Then he went to the "nice" Jim and told him that if they stayed separated the "mean" Jim would of course be tried for his crimes, but that there was no guarantee that he'd be convicted, and if he wasn't, or if he ever got out of prison, then he'd be after me, trying to kill me, and he'd be relentless. He pointed out that "nice" Jim was in no condition to be able to effectively keep me safe, from "mean" Jim or from any other threat out there in the galaxy.

He also told both Jims that they'd lose the Enterprise, which is obviously true. I think that was the final straw for both of them, and so they agreed to the reintegration.

Gotta admit, that bastard is clever. He hit both Jims right where they live. I wouldn't have given him that much credit for understanding and being able to manipulate human emotions, but I think he's way more familiar with emotions than he'll ever admit to, repressed asshole that he is.

Anyway, after that the topic turned to more mundane things, and we chatted for a bit just to make sure we were both okay. We are, and I think we'll be able to put this behind us now. Jim's going to be just fine. He's a resilient son of a bitch.

  
 **To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
** From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
Date sent: Saturday 2260.201

Dear Chris,

Thank you for the files. I haven't read all of them yet, but I will. I'm doing okay now. Bones and I talked last night. We actually sat up most of the night talking and I fell asleep on his couch. It was like old times at the academy. I feel a lot better this morning, other than a lingering headache. Don't tell him that. Not about the headache, I already told him that, I mean that he made me feel better. He's already bad enough now that he snagged you. He doesn't need more of an inflated ego. That's supposed to be me.

The only thing... Well, I just can't get the look on Yeoman Rand's face out of my mind. Or the sound of her screaming. I was happy not to sleep last night, because the nights before, I woke up hearing her screams. I know in one of your files you had actually tortured and killed someone... I don't mean to bring up bad memories for you, but how do you get over something like that? I know what they taught us in command school. I can recite verbatim Starfleet's edict on matters like this. It just doesn't... It doesn't help.

The stuff with Bones is easier. Maybe it shouldn't be, but he doesn't blame me for anything. Part of me still thinks he should. I, or them, said some terrible things to him. But we've aired it all out. We had breakfast in his quarters and he was back grumbling at me about the amount of bacon I eat. Does he do that to you? Shit, Chris, he drives me crazy sometimes.

Worst part of all of this. If I had listened to him in the first place and not gone on the away mission, this never would have happened. I know if Bones had his way, I wouldn't go on any exploratory away missions. I get it, I do. But there has to be a happy medium. I thought we'd found it before, but now it seems murky again. I wish I'd listened to him this time.

Hope your mission is going well. I need to get to the bridge. Beta shift today. I never thought I'd wish for a nice uneventful day, but I really need it right now. Bones too.

Take care, and thanks.

Jim

  
 **To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Date sent: Saturday 2260.201

Dear Chris,

Well, Jim and I talked. I won't go into too much detail, but I think we're okay. And he'll be okay. Maybe not right away, but eventually. There's a few things we didn't discuss - his mother, Delta Vega - but the conversation was heavy enough as it was. Those things can wait for a bit.

Meanwhile, the rest of the crew -- except Rand -- is pretty much back to normal. They don't know all of what happened, and they don't need to know.

Rand's still shaken up, of course. I asked Christine whether she thought she should be taken off duty for a while, but Christine said no, it was better for her to have something to do, and I respect Christine's judgment on that.

I don't know what else to say about all that. Honestly, I think I'd rather just put it behind me.

What else can I say? Well, the Neutral Zone has been quiet so far, which is a good thing. I think even Jim's relieved that we haven't seen any action -- we've had more than enough shit going on as it is.

How's everything with you? How's Sato getting her rocks off, if no one wants to deal with her crap anymore? Just tell me something to distract me, here.

Tell me something happy. Right now I'm a morose bastard who can only think about how shitty things have been here and how much I miss you and wish you were here to lean on. God, I miss your smell, and your arms, and your laugh. Your voice in general. You've got a goddamn sexy voice, have I ever told you that?

All right, I'm going to end this before I get embarrassingly maudlin, if I haven't already. Take care of yourself out there. I miss you, darlin'.

Always,  
Len

  
 **To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Tuesday 2260.204

Dear Len,

I was relieved to hear from you and Jim. I still cannot pull up the report on Starfleet databases, but I suppose that's par for the course with me out here. I'm sure it took a few days for Jim to write it too. I'm glad he's doing okay, and I was more than relieved to see your ring return to green the last couple of days. Thank God for that, because seeing the other colors when I don't know what's going on isn't exactly fun.

Nothing going on so far with our mission. Just tons of open space. Nothing inhabitable. Haven't even come across a ship or even signals from any. I know it won't last, but I have to say it's been nice. I'm trying to get the new crew members acclimated, and the twenty they sprung on me at the last minute -- Fuck, Len, they're babies. Rushed through the academy because we're still short ships and crew. I think these graduated a year early, but unlike Jim and others who have done so, they aren't anywhere near ready.

Can I make a suggestion about Yeoman Rand? See if she can transfer to the Defiant. Suggest it be temporary. I think the Defiant is only in the Neutral Zone another thirty days. After the thirty days before the Defiant moves on, she can decide if she wants to make it permanent or go back to the Enterprise. I think if she has some time away, it will be good for not only her, but Jim too. I was going to suggest this to Jim, but I think it might be better if you have Christine bring it up to Yeoman Rand. If I'm out of place with this, I'm sorry. I'm just trying to use my experience with things like this to help.

As far as Sato -- I honestly don't know what she's doing. I don't think I want to know. All I care about right now is that she's doing her job. Which she does, very well. I don't think I told you this, because we didn't exactly talk about 'work' much while we were on shore leave, but they seem to have decided that the Exeter is a training ship as well as being expected to carry out our exploratory mission. I have six fourth-year command track candidates on board. Starfleet feels they will get more experience while the complete their studies 'in the field.' Don't even get me started on how I feel about this 'fast-tracking,' as they call it. Part of me knows it's needed, but the other part -- Well, it's just a mistake. They Admiralty complains loudly about Jim being young and inexperienced, but they have two Constellation-class and ten Miranda-class ships readying to launch in the next six months. So they need officers to fill them. That will continue for the next four years until the fleet is back at full strength. Honestly though, I really don't consider it full strength when you have inexperienced kids flying the ships. Not everyone is a Pavel Chekov or a Jim Kirk.

Well, I certainly got off on a tangent there. Guess I'm a little frustrated. Over half my meetings and comms while we were on shore leave were regarding these issues. Thankfully, they listen on some issues. They're concentrating on recruiting from the private sectors next year, especially in the medical and science fields. We're scraping the bottom of the barrel with what's left in Starfleet. You know that from how few well-trained personnel you have. Philip goes on and on about how he'd be better off not having anyone sometimes -- That's how bad some of them are.

I miss you, Len. I think about you all the time too. I've been watching our vids, just to hear your voice and see you. I don't know if anything in here was particularly happy. Oh, I can tell you that Grandma won the tango competition. Beat out people half her age. I'm starting to get comms from both her and my mother about starting to plan the wedding. I honestly don't even know where to start with that, Len. I don't want them to get carried away, and we've both done this before. I don't have the heart to tell them I just want something small, so I'm going to see how it goes, I guess. Remind me I allowed this later when they've invited half the planet. God help us.

Love you, honey. I'll write again soon.

Chris

  
 **To: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date sent: Tuesday 2260.204 

Dear Jim,

I'm glad to hear you're doing better. Take your time reading the files; I know it's not easy. I read through a few of them myself when I was looking them up to send you. A lot of them, I haven't seen since they happened.

It does get better. Really. I'm sorry to say that it gets easier the more times things like that happen. And you're right, nothing they can teach you in class can prepare you for it. Jim, you didn't even get the benefit of serving on a ship to _see_ things happen for a few years before you got your command. So give yourself a break, son. You're doing exceptionally well, all things considered. You've had a hell of year so far, with -- Well, with Dr. Elliott and other things.

I got a comm from Len and he said you two talked. I'm glad. Just keep talking to him. As for Yeoman Rand, I would like to tell you how you get over it, but truthfully, you don't. Everything that happens always stays with you in part. If it didn't bother you a month, a year, or ten years later -- Well, I like to believe it reminds us of our humanity and how easily we fail sometimes, even if it isn't under our control. And it wasn't "Jim" who did that, that's the most important thing you have to remember. Some things are just not under our control, and we're kidding ourselves if we think they are. You aren't those two separate people, Jim. You're so much more than that. And I'm proud, more than proud to have played a part in making you the incredible man you've become.

As far as finding a happy medium with away missions. You know that if Bones had his way, he'd keep you on the ship every time. Well, maybe not _that_ bad, but pretty close. If I can suggest something -- just for awhile, stay on board. I'm not saying forever, I'm not saying stay after everything has been checked out by the first away team -- Just give him some time. He went through hell this year thinking he was losing you, Jim. Keeping you on board is as much for him right now as it is for you. He understands _why_ you need to go, and I'm sure he'll come around. If he doesn't, just spend every away mission when you aren't part of with him in medical or keep him up on the bridge with you and -- Well, just be you. That should have him pushing you onto the transporter pad before you know it.

Write anytime you need to. I'm glad I can help.

Love,  
Chris

  



	40. No Cloud Was In the Sky (Part 37 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The correspondence and personal journals of Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy. Plus some Jim.

_**Trek Fic: No Cloud Was In the Sky (Pike/McCoy, NC-17)**_  
 **Title:** No Cloud Was In the Sky (Part 37 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** Around 7900  
 **Summary:** The correspondence and personal journals of Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy. Plus some Jim.  
 **A/N:** From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) : Lions, and tigers, and BEARS, oh MY. Okay, not really, I am just brain dead so that's all I got. From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/): Just a heads up, I'm gonna be getting a "real" job working for someone else (oh god nooooo) so updates may become a bit less frequent in the future.

  


**To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date sent: Saturday 2260.209 

Dear Len,

I'm glad you've had a quiet week. You and Jim deserve it. Sounds like things are getting back to normal, or as normal as they can be in the Neutral Zone. Things remain quiet out here too. I've been spending quite a bit of time with the command candidates, using my ready room pretty much as a classroom. I guess I enjoy teaching a little more than I remembered, because I look forward to the time I spend with them each day. Good group of young men and women. I'd still prefer they spend more time at the academy, but at least I know this group won't miss anything.

I finally was able to read the official reports on what happened. I got chills. I can't even imagine, Len. Even Spock's report seemed -- Well, it wasn't his usual report. It almost, dare I say it, _emotional_. Don't tell him I said that though. How are you doing with Spock lately? You didn't say if you and Jim talked about that, so I hope things are okay in that regard.

I'm relieved that Yeoman Rand has transferred to the Defiant. As I said, I think it will be good for both of them. I see that Jim's new yeoman is a Denobulan male. I admit I had to chuckle at that. More proof that Spock _does_ have a sense of humor.

We found an M-class planet in this sector, but it was completely barren. Creepy even, no wind or weather of any kind and the planet -- like it was purposely made that way. The science teams are studying data but I highly doubt we'll even go to the surface unless they find something worthwhile. It would take years of terraforming to even begin to think about establishing a colony or outpost. Who knows though, it might be the only thing we find out here, and you know Starfleet, they want an outpost in every damn area they can find.

Let's see, what else is going on. I've been swimming a lot, and have started to run on the treadmill again. Philip is going to start weaning me off some of the neurogenic drugs, feeling I'm stable in that regard. He's going to leave me on the immuno-suppressants until the end of your expected treatment protocol, possibly longer. My headaches have lessened, and the last few nights I've actually slept pretty well without a sleep aid. I still tire twice as fast as I used to -- Philip of course blames it on my advance age. Asshole. I know he sent you all the results from my physical at Starfleet Medical, and I told him to continue to send you updates.

Mom has started pressing me to set a date for our wedding. Have you put any thought into where you want to get married? Of course, it will have to line up with shore leave, and be on Earth. Although, if we did marry off-planet, we might actually get the small wedding we both want as opposed to what my family wants. I'm torn, Len. I know my mother was so disappointed when my first marriage failed, and I know she thinks I've finally met the 'one' -- Yes, she's told me that many times already. So part of me feels like I have to make amends with her for my past mistakes and let her enjoy planning this. The other part of me wants to have Admiral Barnett marry us next time we're earthside and not tell anyone.

So please tell me, what do you want, Len? You never talked about your wedding with Jocelyn. I don't know if it was big or small. Mine was -- Well, it was an event, and let's just leave it at that. You should also know, my mom would prefer we marry in a church, but I know that's not your thing. Frankly, none of this is my thing. A quiet ceremony outside with family and friends and a party after would be perfect for me, but it really doesn't matter. I just want to marry you, Len. The rest of it isn't important to me.

If you aren't ready to think about it, I'll try to keep her at bay. But I'm warning you, if she doesn't get an answer from me, I'm sure she'll start writing you. Then she'll get my grandmother into it -- Heck, she's already written me four times since we left, telling me details about the engagement party. And no, you don't want to know. It's better that way. Believe me. The only thing keeping me from telling them to cancel it all is the fact that I'll get to spend a few days with you. And I meant what I said before -- We're going to the party, and then straight back to my ranch until we have to leave. I'm not letting them guilt me into anything else. Remind me of that later, okay honey?

Well, it's late and I'm tired from my workout on the treadmill. I'm going to watch some of our vids and jerk off with the sounds you make when you're inside me -- I never fail to come when you do. You're so damn beautiful when you come, Len.

I miss you. I love you. Stay safe.

Always,

Chris

  
 **To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Sent: Tuesday 2260.212

Dear Chris,

Dear lord, space is boring. Never thought I'd say that, and I _certainly_ never thought I'd be complaining about it. Not that I am, really. Dull is better than the alternative. But it's been a whole lot of nothing around here, and people are getting edgy. Since it's the neutral zone, they wake up every day knowing that it could all go to hell at any moment, and the longer it goes without anything happening, the higher the tension is.

I've already had to treat couple of morons who got into fistfight over who was first in line at a replicator, if you can believe that. I read 'em the riot act, of course, got 'em properly chastened, but that kind of crap is starting to happen all over the ship. It's just nerves, wound to the breaking point. Not much to be done about it. Well, Jim's talking about starting some kind of intramural athletics league, maybe fencing lessons given by Sulu or something. I don't know. Maybe it's a good idea, and lord knows he could use a project to keep him busy. He's driving the crew -- especially the senior staff -- absolutely crazy by popping up in everyone's business like a goddamn hyperactive groundhog.

I thought Christine was going to punch him when she discovered him in the med supply closet, everything off the shelves and on the floor so he could reorganize it in what he insisted was a more efficient way. She ordered him out of sickbay -- a lieutenant ordering around the captain! -- and told him not to show his face again unless it was a dire medical emergency, or she'd make him regret it. She can be damn scary when she wants to be. He slunk out of there like a dog with its tail between its legs. I gave her a two hour lunch break.

I know Jim's been feeling better since he got his new yeoman, Kessix, who we took on board when Rand transferred to the Defiant. It helps that Kessix could probably take Jim down with both hands tied behind his back. He wouldn't -- from what I can tell he's easy-going and not particularly perturbed by Jim's antics, which is good -- but if Jim went crazy and attacked him, he wouldn't get anywhere. Good lord, though, have you seen the Denobulan tongue? When I first met him, he was with Jim and they were swapping stories of their exploits. Then he unfurled his tongue and it must've been a good foot long. He tried to tell us how much his wives enjoyed it but I told him to shut up or I'd hypo him with a vocal paralytic. He just smiled.

Glad to hear you're feeling better, and that you're sleeping without drugs. The fact that the headaches are easing up is a good sign too. I'm reading the med reports that Philip sends me but he's doing a fine job of taking care of you so I'm going to let him do his thing without interference.

As for the wedding - good god, man, I've got no idea. I'm a doctor, not an event planner. I suppose maybe San Francisco would be the best place for it since it would be easier for Starfleet personnel to attend. The specific venue, though -- I don't know. Outside would be nice. Definitely not a church. As for the number of people, the smaller, the better, as far as I'm concerned. I don't want it to be a big deal.

My wedding to Joss was -- well, "an event" is probably a good way to describe it. I'm sure it was nothing like yours, but it had all the old-fashioned fripperies, from Joss's puffy white dress to a goddamn groom's cake and everything in between. Probably around 400 guests, most of 'em I didn't even know, or had only met once or twice in my entire life. But it was what Joss wanted, and I didn't particularly care, and since it was her family paying for the damn thing, I just let her have her way.

Hell, Chris, eloping is starting to sound better and better.

About the only thing getting me through the idea of that engagement party is the thought that as soon as it's over, we're going to go to your ranch in the Mojave. I can't wait to see it, darlin'. It sounds quiet and peaceful and it sounds like it's a part of you, a part that I haven't seen yet.

Plus, of course, we're going to fuck until both of us are so sore we can't sit down for a week. That'll make horseback riding fun. I've heard that the stars out in the desert are unbelievable. I want to make love to you under those stars, with no one around for miles to hear the sounds you make when I'm inside of you. You think _I_ make incredible sounds when I'm inside you? You should hear yourself, darlin'. You're so uninhibited, gasping and grunting and mewling, demanding more, harder, _now_.

When I'm fucking you, you're so desperate for me, so needy. I love that I'm the only one who gets to see you like that, out of control and vulnerable and completely at my mercy. That side of you is mine, and mine alone. I bet not many people even suspect that side of you exists. They just know calm, capable, always-in-control Pike. They don't know how you twist and buck under me, how you fist the sheets, how you scream my name when you come. When we're at your place in Mojave, darlin', I'm going to make you scream my name until you're hoarse. That's a promise.

Hell, now I've got to go jerk off. I don't even need to watch the vids -- I just close my eyes and remember how you look under me, your blue eyes glazed and your mouth slack, your fingernails scrabbling desperately against my back while I pound into you hard enough to leave bruises on your ass. Fuck, Chris, got my cock in my hand right now, thinking about that. Gonna take a minute to finish up, and believe me, it'll only take a minute.

Christ, baby, that was good. My whole body aches now from the force of it. Shot so far that some of it got on the screen of my comm unit, it's dripping down now across these words. Better go clean it up.

Stay safe, darlin', and know that I'm thinking of you always.

Love,  
Len

 **To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date sent: Saturday 2260.216 

Dear Len,

Sorry it took me a bit longer than usual to write again. I've been really busy with my command students. Plus, the science department made a valid argument that since we had nothing better to do, and haven't come across anything else, we should go ahead an orbit the planet. Right now we've classified it as uninhabitable. The science officers have found some really unusual elements though. I mentioned it was barren, and I meant that. Literally just dirt and rock everywhere. Yet it's apparent that it once supported life. The disturbing part is that my science officer is definitely coming around to my earlier thought that someone _made_ the planet the way it is. Makes me wonder what else we'll find out here.

It sure didn't take long for the 'neutral zone mania,' as I call it, to hit the Enterprise. It's usually a bit longer, but after your transporter issue, I'm sure people are just on edge in general. Keeping everyone busy and occupied is about all you can do. If only you had a hypo for patience that you could inoculate everyone with. Because it always seems to be in short supply there.

I'm glad to hear Jim is being Jim. Makes me worry a lot less about him actually. Has he been talking to you? Has he said anything more? I sent another comm to him and haven't heard from him yet. I don't want to push him, and I'm sure he's still wary of me -- I just want to help.

I wrote my mother earlier and gave her the go ahead to start looking in the San Francisco area for something outdoors. I don't know about you, but I've always been fond of Golden Gate Park. I know other areas of the park are more popular for weddings, but what do you think about the west end near Ocean Beach? Not that I want to get married on the beach -- I just think it would be nice to get married -- I don't know, maybe on the old soccer fields, or even near the restored beach chalet. Is there anywhere you had in mind?

I'll start inquiring with Richard about when our next earthside shore leave will be. I know the Exeter's next leave isn't going to bring us anywhere near Earth, but I'll figure out a way for us to get together. The Enterprise will probably be heading back to Earth after the neutral zone. That's SOP after a tour there, so I can only assume. I think, realistically, we'd be looking at late summer/early fall of 2261 for a date. That seems so far away. I've always liked September in San Francisco. What do you think of that, honey? Want to marry me at sunset in the park with sounds of the ocean surrounding us?

God, I miss you. I think I've read the end of your last comm about fifty times already. Jerked off to it twice. I don't really need the vids either, but -- I don't know, they just somehow make me feel closer to you.

I don't know if I've told you this or not, but my bedroom at the ranch has a huge retractable skylight. I used to sleep with it open, so I could see the stars unobstructed. So you'll get your wish for me to make love to you under the stars, even when we're in the bedroom. I do know a couple of nice spots out in the desert that would be good for that too. God, I can't wait.

Ran five miles on the treadmill earlier. Thought I was going to have a heart attack the last mile, but I did it. And before you start grumbling at me to take it slow, I worked my way up to that and Philip is fully aware. I wouldn't say he exactly approves, but he's not forbidding me either. I'm taking care of myself. Don't worry. I'm not going to do anything to keep myself from being in peak shape for all times I'm going to fuck you. Horseback riding will be the least of your worries -- You might not be able to walk.

I'm going to get some sleep now, my love. I might take my command students down to the planet tomorrow depending on the final report from the science department. Could be an interesting day.

It kills me that I can't be with you on your birthday, Len. Or at least talk to you. Just know that I wish I could be with you and I'll be thinking about you. Happy 33rd, honey.

Be safe. I love you.

Always,  
Chris

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike**   
_Sunday 2260.217_

Been awhile since I've written a journal entry. Mostly as I've been so tired when I finally get to my quarters, I've basically taken a quick sonic and crawled in bed. So much has happened since my last entry, I don't even know where to start. Or if I even should. I guess I'll just start with what I'm thinking about right now.

Mostly I'm missing Len. Three days without hearing from him is harder than I thought it would be. I remind myself that it wasn't too long ago that it would take more than a week -- Doesn't seem to help much. I think I might just start writing him every night telling him what's going on. Might not be very exciting most days, but maybe it will feel like I'm going home and talking with him -- Telling him about my day. I don't know.

I'm still worried about Jim. I told Len that knowing Jim was up to his old tricks made me worry less, and it does, but -- In some ways it makes me worry more. If he's talking to Len about it, that's one thing. If he's just acting like everyone expects, covering it up -- Well, let's just say that I know from experience that doing that doesn't work out very well. I know Len is aware of this. And I know he's watching him like a hawk. I just wonder if Len would really call him on it right now with their friendship being so tenuous of late. I think Len is just so relieved to have him back in his life right now -- I just hope he doesn't overlook things because of it.

The first time something out of my control happened to me -- I don't even want to go into the details. Suffice it to say, I was indirectly responsible for killing five people. Fuck, 'indirectly' is what they teach us to say. Drill into us at the Academy and while we're working our way up through the ranks. I was the perfect Captain during shift and when needed -- Outside of that, I was drinking and self-medicating for weeks after. I nearly killed myself a couple of times taking so many drugs and then the antidotes when I needed to be on duty. I was wrecking my body, and frankly I didn't care. I was literally stealing drugs from med bay. If Philip hadn't intervened and covered up so the CMO at the time wouldn't find out -- Well, I'm sure I would have been out of Starfleet. It was a bitter lesson, and luckily I learned from it. Didn't stop me from getting drunk when things happened other times, but at least there weren't drugs involved too.

I know I'm probably overreacting. And like I told Len before, my reasons are partially selfish. It scares the hell out of me sometimes -- Jim being as reckless as he is. While I want to believe that I'd be enough to pull Len through something happening to Jim, part of me isn't sure. Fuck. I will just continue to pray for both of them.

Now, onto the hard issue. My jealousy. I'm not going to lie and say that it's completely under control. I still feel a twinge -- Almost like a pinch, really, in my gut whenever -- Well, when Jim said he slept on Len's couch. Things like that bother me more than I'd like. I still really don't know why. I've tried to think back through my life -- Sure there were nights I spent on friends couches when I'd had too much to drink or had gone through something rough. But most of those times it was in houses or apartments. It's not like I was sleeping mere steps away from them. It shouldn't matter. Rationally I _know_ nothing is going on between them, but jealousy isn't at all rational.

I commed Dr. Rossen the other day with some of these thoughts. I haven't heard from her yet. I'm sure she'll reassure me that I'm making progress -- Remind me of how far I've come. I just still see it as such a damn weakness. Christopher Pike doesn't have weaknesses. Of course, Christopher Pike was never a lovestruck fool either and look at me now.

I'm actually looking forward to my wedding. While I told Len it didn't matter, there is part of me that actually _wants_ be involved in planning it. I already told my mother what color flowers I wanted. _Flowers._ Since when did I turn into the bride? Jesus. Get a grip, Chris. But I want certain things, and fuck if I haven't been dreaming about it. In my dream we were wearing old-fashioned Victorian clothes from, god, probably the 1800's -- tailcoats and top hats, and I woke up not entirely opposed to it. Something about having to unbutton twenty buttons on Len's waistcoat to get him out of it on our wedding night made me so hard I had to jerk off before I could even get out of bed.

I highly doubt Len would agree to that, nor do I even really want to wear something like that to get married in. I will admit though, it's certainly given me ideas about throwing a costume party and dressing up just to see Len in something like that. God, I'm getting hard again just thinking about it. I think that's my cue to take a hot shower, jerk off and get some sleep.

Tomorrow we're sending an away team down to the planet. Hopefully it will be uneventful, but I'd like to be well rested in case it's not.

 **To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Date sent: Thursday 2260.221

Dear Chris,

Nothing much to report here. Sulu thought he'd found some "anomalous readings," whatever the hell that means, but when we went to check it out there was nothing there. Spock said more'n likely it was magnetic space dust screwing with our sensors. Well, he quoted exact odds, but I think he pulls those numbers out of his ass, personally. I was up on the bridge, just keeping a circumspect eye on Jim. I don't know how the bridge crew puts up with Spock's supercilious bullshit.

Anyway that's about it in terms of excitement. Jim's starting up a combat training program to burn off the crew's excess energy. Sulu's giving sword-fighting lessons and Jim's giving hand-to-hand training. Personally I think Jim just enjoys getting up and strutting around in his skin-tight workout clothes -- which look goddamn ridiculous, by the way -- and showing off his fighting skills. But it's keeping the crew busy, and it's keeping my staff busy, treating the bruises and strained muscles that go with this kind of foolishness.

My birthday was all right, I suppose. Mostly I spent it holed up in Jim's quarters, avoiding everyone. Jim accused me of moping because I couldn't be with you, and the hell of it was that he was right. It's ridiculous, but somehow on that day I missed you even more than I always do. Anyway, I didn't brood the entire time. Chekov set up a small party for me, with a cake and streamers and everything. Not really my thing, but I figured it would be ungracious to bitch about it. Well, not that that would normally stop me, but it's Chekov. He'd get those big sad eyes and then I would've felt like I'd killed his puppy or something. He knows exactly how to use that to his advantage, of course. He got me to wear a goddamn ridiculous multi-colored, pointy hat with a pom-pom on top and then Jim, who was lying in wait, took a holo-photo. Asshole. Jim, I mean, not Chekov.

Speaking of Chekov, he seems to have taken a shine to Kessix. I don't mean the way you're thinking, I just mean that somehow they're kindred spirits. Chekov likes to tell Kessix about how everything worthwhile ever done by humankind was invented in Russia, and his eyes get big as saucers when Kessix talks about life on Denobula. It's actually kind of funny because it's got Sulu steaming mad. Jealousy, plain and simple. I don't know why everyone but Sulu has figured out that he's head over heels for the kid. Well, Chekov hasn't figured it out either. I think Kessix has, though, and this is his way of playing matchmaker. It's given the crew betting pool something to focus on, anyway. I've got five credits on Sulu finally getting his head out of his ass and starting something up with Chekov within two months. Christine gives 'em a month and Nyota says six. Jim's not allowed to participate because he always tries to cheat and jumpstart things himself. He was gettin' all whiny so we made him the referee -- his job is to keep the rest of us on the straight and narrow, not that any of _us_ need watching, and to keep track of Sulu and Chekov, see when and if they actually get a clue. So we'll see what happens. I'll let you know.

As for your questions about Jim, no, we haven't talked any more -- I mean the serious Talking kind of talking, but I think he's doing better. Little by little.

Good lord, Chris, sunset in September, in Golden Gate Park, sounds like heaven. The old soccer fields near the ocean are fine, since I'm guessing we'll need someplace big to hold everyone your mother's going to invite.

I'm glad you liked the comm, and I'm really happy to hear that it gave you jerk-off material. I've been watching our vids too, now and again. It's good to see you and hear you, but it makes me miss you even more. The skylight in your bedroom at the ranch sounds incredible. I think I'm gonna like it out there. And if you want to fuck me until I can't walk, well, you're welcome to try. You won't catch me complaining.

I know by the time you get this comm, your away mission to that barren Class M planet will be long over, but just -- be careful, all right? Away missions have got me jumpy as hell right now. Something always seems to go wrong, no matter how routine it looks.

Got to go hit the sonics now, get ready for my shift. I know you're busy, but write when you can. These letters are always the highlight of my goddamn week.

I love you, darlin'.

Always,  
Len

 **To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
** From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
Date sent: Monday 2260.225

Dear Chris,

Sorry I haven't written back. I've been trying to keep busy and Bones and I might have slightly overdone it with his birthday celebrations on Saturday night. Scotty brewed up _something_ and man, we were really flying on whatever it was. I still have a slight hangover even _with_ Bones's usual remedy.

Other than that, I'm doing okay. I'm not sleeping very well. Bones has been... well, I don't know if I would be doing as well without him. He told me I could come to him anytime, and a few days ago, I woke him up at 0200. He didn't even grumble at me... Well, not as much as he usually would. He just pulled me inside, tucked me in his bed, and he slept on the couch that night. I guess I looked pretty bad. I'd had a nightmare. I was shaky and sweaty. He was even grumbling about shock. I think he sat with me until I fell asleep or he was satisfied I was okay. I don't know, Chris. Sometimes I'm feeling okay about it, and sometimes not. Those times I'm not, I'm just trying not to be an idiot and while we're not really talking about anything, I know I can go to Bones anytime I need to. It helps.

Bones was okay on his birthday on Wednesday. I know he was missing you a lot. We had a little party with the bridge crew after alpha shift in the officer's rec room. I'm attaching a short video of him blowing out the candles on the cake and a holo of him actually wearing a party hat. It didn't stay on long, but Chekov made the hats and decorated, and who can say no to Chekov? Bones and I celebrated privately over the weekend. We pretty much stayed in my quarters the entire time -- well, when we didn't have things to take care of on the bridge or in sickbay. We were both off-duty, but you know how it is, you're really never off-duty. We watched a lot of stupid holovids and didn't talk really. Well, we talked, just not about what's going on with me. I just don't see how rehashing it over and over again is going to make things any different. I can't exactly imagine that you talked to anyone about it. Maybe you did and maybe I'm just too stubborn for my own good, just like Bones always says.

Well, Bones is waiting for me in his quarters for dinner so I'd better not be late. He'll have security in here or he'll be in here so fast... Not that that's happened before.

Hope your mission is going well. Keep yourself safe out there.

Take care,  
Jim

  



	41. The Sands Were Dry as Dry (Part 38 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The correspondence and personal journals of Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy. Plus some Jim.

_**Trek Fic: The Sands Were Dry as Dry (Pike/McCoy, NC-17)**_  
 **Title:** The Sands Were Dry as Dry (Part 38 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** Around 7600  
 **Summary:** The correspondence and personal journals of Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy. Plus some Jim.  
 **A/N:** From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) : For Renee. You told me once you liked the quiet uneventful times, just seeing them living their lives. So this is for you. You will be greatly missed. From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) : Hear, hear. For Renee ([](http://easilymused1956.livejournal.com/profile)[ **easilymused1956**](http://easilymused1956.livejournal.com/)).

  


**To: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Thursday 2260.228 

Dear Jim,

Glad to hear from you, son. I'll admit, I've been worried about you. I know all too well what those first few weeks are like. The first time it happened to me -- Well, it wasn't pretty. I nearly self-destructed, Jim. No, I didn't talk to anyone, but I _should_ have. I can't exactly say I've gotten better at the talking thing either. I've paid the price though. I've spent my entire life alone and -- Fuck, it's hard to admit, but if any of this helps you not make the same mistakes I have, then it's worth it.

I'm going to be honest here, Jim. I think, no, I _know_ that part of the reason I'm such a jealous asshole about you and Len is because I have never had a friend or even a romantic relationship as close as the two of you have. I have nothing to compare it to except for -- Well, Philip and Allen, and they're married. I've kept everyone at a distance. I built walls so high and had the attitude to go with them to keep anyone from trying. Len knows these things and you're smart enough to have probably figured it out too. I want you to know that you are one of the few people in my life who has ever made it past those walls.

For someone as observant as I am, I sometimes think I've been blind to the world around me for a long time. At least the important parts. This is the part where I confess that when I got your comm -- Well, there might have been a bit of steam coming from my ears. Knowing you were in Len's bed -- I know, I know, you're probably sitting there shaking your head in disappointment at me once again. I was disappointed in myself. Every time I think I'm over it, it hits me hard.

Instead of stewing about though, or writing to you or Len and saying something I'd regret, I took a long walk around the Exeter. A funny thing happened while I did. For a moment, when people were unguarded, not realizing I was approaching, I got to observe my crew talking and laughing -- Going about their lives. Men, women, aliens, spending time together, on shift and off. I snuck in the kitchen entrance to the mess and stood out of sight and watched everyone. Watched them interact. I was particularly drawn to two men who I happen to know are both very happily married -- One to a man, the other a woman. Sitting side by side at a table, their shoulders touching at times, picking food off each other's plates. Laughing and joking. I watched as one of them rose to go get more drinks -- Putting his hand on his _friend's_ shoulder and squeezing. Later I observed one of them ruffle the other's hair. I'd bet my pension that there is nothing untoward going on between them. They're simply good friends. I looked up their records and they've served together or been stationed at the same posts ten out of their fifteen and eighteen years, respectively, in Starfleet.

So the last couple of days, I've continued my observations. Literally spying on my crew. In public areas of course, but without them knowing I was there. I know they'd act more reserved if they saw me, and I didn't want that. What I'm trying to say, Jim, is that all this time I thought the relationship you have with Len is unusual, and maybe in some ways it still is -- But from what I've seen the last few days, it isn't unique.

Does it still bother me that you and Len are so -- well, 'intimate'? Yes, it does. But I'm also learning that you can have an _intimate_ friendship with someone that in no way interferes with the other's romantic or sexual relationship. I'm learning, Jim. Something I obviously should have known long ago.

I'm glad you have Len in your life. I hope you know that you can count on me too. That puts you far ahead of where I was at your age. Don't make the same mistakes I have. Talk to Len, talk to me, talk to _someone_ about what happened. It's not rehashing it, Jim. It's learning to make sense of it. Make some kind of peace. Someone told me once that the only truths and fears that can hurt you are the ones that stay hidden. I wish I'd listened to that advice.

There's more I could say, but I won't. You're smart, Jim. You know what you need to do. I want to hear about your hand-to-hand classes and combat training when you have time. Right now I'm exhausted and I still need to write Len. I hope something I've written here helps. If so, it's worth the -- Well, I'll admit I'm embarrassed about some of this.

Take care of yourself, son. And thank you for taking care of Len for me.

Love,

Chris

 **To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Thursday 2260.228 

Dear Len,

This is going to be short as I just wrote a long comm to Jim and I'm exhausted both physically and emotionally. Before you get all worried, I'm _fine_. The away mission was uneventful. Nothing of any worth was found on the planet. We took more samples, filed a report, broke orbit and are back scouting what seems to be endless, planet-less space.

I've just been, well, occupied this week. If Jim is agreeable, you can read the comm I sent him. There's more, but I'm literally about to nod off here at my desk and I don't need a lecture from you _or_ Philip for doing so.

Just know that I love you. I'll write more tomorrow. I'm only working half a shift as I'm moving to Gamma in two days and need to acclimate.

Always yours,  
Chris

 **To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Friday 2260.229

Dear Len,

I'm sorry for such a short and I'm sure worrisome comm last night. I was so tired, Len. Still am somewhat, but much better than last night. I'm staying up all night to get ready for Gamma tomorrow. Not sure I'm going to make it. May have to take a stim or two tomorrow night.

I don't know if Jim showed you the comm or not, so I don't know how much to explain. I'm going to proceed on the assumption that he did. I'm not sure if you noticed the ring color earlier in the week. I'm sure at times it was red, and then pink, black, swirling, whatever it does when I'm all over the place.

I'm not going to beat around the bush. I'll just flat out say that the number one gossip subject on the Exeter right now is the fact that it's supposedly been 'proven' that you and Jim are having an affair behind my back. Now, before you get all bent out of shape -- I know it's not true. From what I've pieced together, and from what I found out after I ordered Rickie to spill what she's heard, it's all based on the fact that since the transporter incident, you and Jim have been going in and out of each other's quarters at all hours. And staying in each other's quarters. I'm sure you can imagine how it's gone from there.

Truth: yes, it got to me. But like I told Jim, it led me on a journey that has helped me figure a few things out. I'm also going to admit once and for all that I think I'm always going to be jealous of you and Jim to a certain extent. I'm not going to try to pretend otherwise, because it would be a lie. It bothers me, Len. I don't expect you to change anything, I don't _want_ you to change anything. Either of you. It's my problem, and while I can't promise that I'm not going to get upset from time to time or do something foolish -- I want to believe that with the help of Dr. Rossen, Richard, and what I've learned the last few days, that I have a better grasp on all of it. I don't know what else to say. Honestly, I'm a little worried how you'll react right now.

Just know that I love you more than anything. I don't need your reassurance, or anything really. And I mean it, I don't want you or Jim to change anything. In fact, if I hear the scuttlebutt dying down without reason, I'm going to know you have. He needs you right now, probably more than he ever has. He's going to hit bottom soon. It's inevitable. I'll never forgive myself if my feelings prevent you from catching him.

Love always,  
Chris

 **To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Monday 2260.232 

Dear Chris,

Things are quiet here, at least in terms of our mission. A few warp signatures that looked Romulan but by the time we got near, whoever it was was long gone.

Of course, whenever it's quiet out there it turns into a goddamn soap opera in here. There's a new strain of Rigellian clap working its way through the crew -- a mutated version that's immune to the current STD booster. I'm working on a new booster, and meantime I'm just treating the symptoms as they crop up. Luckily it's nothing too serious, just uncomfortable. The crew of this boat is goddamn lucky that I'm an ethical man because I swear to god I can track who's sleeping with who just by the timing of the onset of symptoms. I could make a fortune in the betting pools. I know far more than I ever wanted to learn about this crew's taste in bed partners.

In other news, and this I _do_ have permission to share, Nyota and Spock have decided to have a baby. They said if I'm up to it, they'd like to have me assist them with it. Medically, I mean. Good lord. I'll have to brush up on my cross-species reproductive genetics before I even know whether I can handle it. Of course, I'll consult with other doctors as well, although all of the ones who helped in Spock's conception perished on Vulcan.

I can't believe I'm going to be helping to create a miniature Spock. The thought alone induces nightmares. Still, if anyone's DNA can compensate for Vulcan cold-bloodedness, it's Nyota's. I'm sure any baby of theirs will be cute as a bug in a rug, at any rate.

Oh, and Spock tried to tell Nyota that once she became pregnant, it would no longer be "logical" for her to go on away missions. I think the entire ship heard the resulting fight. That's going down in ship's lore, for sure. Spock eventually decided on a tactical retreat. Sometimes he shows a smidgeon of common sense.

Of course, they've asked Jim to be the godfather of the baby, which negates any common sense either of them has ever claimed to possessed. He's busting with pride, naturally, and is already full of plans for his little "niece" or "nephew." I told him to hold his horses, that she's not even pregnant and that even once she was, it would be a tricky pregnancy, but he just waved it off and told me that with me as their doctor, of course it would go smoothly. I don't understand how he's so annoyingly optimistic despite the shit that life dumps on everyone again and again.

Speaking of Jim, I guess I should respond to the things you said about that. Yeah, I read the comm you sent him about being jealous, and about the rumors about us. The problem is, I don't have the first goddamn idea what to say. You said you didn't want reassurance, and it doesn't seem to help any when I try to offer it. I guess it's good that you're dealing with it, acknowledging it instead of trying to shove it down. As for the scuttlebutt - I learned a long time ago to ignore it. There's always been rumors about me and Jim, starting from practically the first day of the Academy. Hell, you told me that even you believed them, before you and me were together. Sometimes the rumors flare up, sometimes they die down. Right now the rumor on the Enterprise, and I heard this from Christine, is that you're having an affair with Rickie and I ran to Jim's arms for comfort. It would be amusing if it weren't so goddamn aggravating. In fact, Ensign T'Chani from engineering came up to me in the mess yesterday, put her hand on my arm, and said in all seriousness and sympathy, "Men are dogs. All of them." It was all I could do to keep a straight face as I agreed with her.

You said you were changing shift -- that's hard on your system, as you well know. Take it easy, get plenty of rest, and listen to Philip if he tells you to slow down. You know he's going to tell me if you ignore him, and then we'll gang up on you. Trust me, you do _not_ want that.

Speaking of plenty of rest, I'm pretty damn exhausted myself, so I'm going to sign off for the night. I love you, I miss you, and I belong to _you_ , Christopher Richard Pike.

Always,  
Len

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**

_Monday 2260.232_

So apparently Chris is never going to get over his jealousy of me and Jim. Just wonderful. That was exactly what I wanted to hear.

I don't have the slightest idea what to do about it anymore, and honestly I'm getting sick of it. Nothing I say or do ever seems to make a lick of difference, and yet I keep beating my head against the wall. Me and my goddamn urge to fix everything and everyone.

Well, I am officially making it not my problem anymore. He can deal with his jealousy or not. I've done everything I can to reassure him, and apparently it hasn't helped. I give up.

Chris is also sure that Jim is going to suffer some sort of mental breakdown any second now, over what happened when he got split in two. He keeps telling me to watch over Jim -- as if I wouldn't anyway. And then, of course, he complains that he's jealous when I do keep a close eye on him.

Anyway, I'm not convinced that Chris is right about Jim. I know Jim better than he does, after all, and I'm Jim's goddamn doctor. Have been for years. Jim isn't some fragile flower, and he's been through a hell of a lot worse shit than this in his life. Worse, probably, than anything Chris had gone through when he first had an experience like this. Jim knows how to deal with mental trauma, how to compartmentalize when he's on duty and work through shit when he's not. If he didn't, he wouldn't still be alive.

It's a strange feeling, realizing that Chris isn't always right. About factual things, I mean -- I've always known he was kind of a dumbass when it comes to emotions. And it's odd to realize that sometimes my opinion has more validity than his. But it's not like I'm going to relax my vigilance around Jim, regardless of whether I agree with Chris's assessment. I keep an eye out for Jim. I always have, ever since we met, and I'm going to keep on doing it, whether Chris likes it or not.

Christ, I'm in a foul mood. Better go sleep it off because Christine will kick my ass if I end up taking it out on her, or even worse, the patients.

 **To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Saturday 2260.230

Dear Len,

It's shortly before midnight during my first night of Gamma shift. I have my command trainees all sitting at stations on the bridge and we're going to have a red alert drill at 0300. Otherwise, it's quiet. We've been traveling at warp three for a few hours, approaching the next sector we need to chart and explore.

I haven't had a stim yet, but I know I'll need one soon. I'm having a heck of a time changing my sleeping schedule. I'm trying to do it without sleep aids, although I'm sure you'll grumble that stimulant use can be just as bad. I already promised Philip if it's not better in forty-eight hours, I'll let him sedate me when I get off shift.

I don't think I told you I was going to start writing every day. I didn't think you'd mind, but I can't always promise I'll have anything worthwhile to say. I just miss 'talking' to you and I thought if I told you about my day, it might help.

I know you told me not to get you anything for your birthday, and I didn't tell you before because I was -- Well, she hadn't been born yet and I didn't want to put the cart before the horse. Damn, that's a bad pun considering -- Well, your gift is an Arabian filly. She's already showing that she's as stubborn as her owner as she arrived well over two weeks late. To the point we were worried. So you'll get to see her in October. She was born at a nearby ranch in Rosamund. When she's older, we can keep her at my ranch or eventually move her to Georgia. Whatever you'd like. She'll also need a name, and that's up to you. I'm attaching a few holos. As you can see, at only a few days old, she's already quite spirited.

Hopefully, getting her hasn't gotten me in trouble with you. The opportunity presented itself three weeks ago when the original buyer backed out due to relocation off-planet. The owner contacted Annie to see if I'd be interested and the rest is history. The timing was perfect for your birthday. And while I know you said you wanted to put off getting horses for the Georgia property, like I said, she can stay in Mojave. If it's not okay, then I guess you'll have to punish me.

Well, it's taken me awhile to write this in between tactical exercises with my students. It's almost 0300 so I need to get ready to wake the ship up. I have to admit, I get a kick out of it.

I love you, Len. Hope you're keeping busy.

Always,

Chris

 **To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Sunday 2260.231 

Dear Len,

I was able to sleep five hours this afternoon, so that's progress I suppose. I'm going to try not to use a stim tonight. I had to use three last night, even with the excitement of the red alert. I already told Rickie to keep the coffee coming tonight. I'm on cup number two already. Is it bad that I can hear your 'Good god man, that's not good for you!' rumbling through my head. Unlike everyone else, though, you don't scare me. Thinking of you saying that actually makes me grin. And hard too.

The drill went well last night. Performance could have been a bit better, but I took on so many firsties this leg of the tour. Most have never served on a ship like most Academy cadets do at some point. Another one of Starfleet's _brilliant_ ideas. Don't get me started.

I got a comm from Richard. The Exeter has a choice of Risa or Rigel II for shore leave. He's not quite sure of the exact dates. HQ is waiting to see if the two ships they want to launch will be ready in late January/early February. The ships probably will, but there is the matter of not enough experienced crew to man them. What a mess. They are firming up dates, but the Exeter will more than likely be delayed returning by a week or two as the ships launching are intended for long-range exploration. I don't think your tour will be extended since they won't send a rookie ship and crew to the Neutral Zone immediately. He assured me we'd have at least a week together, for which I'm grateful.

Do you have a preference between Risa or Rigel II? Honestly, it doesn't matter to me, but Risa, despite its reputation, is safer than the Rigellian system. Regardless, I plan on getting us a house on a secluded beach and I highly doubt we'll be leaving it much. Since you'll be heading back to earth, I'll arrange transport for you once you've debriefed and are done at headquarters.

He doesn't see any reason why the following shore leave won't be on Earth later that year. I was thinking the other night that we had our first date in September. 2258.250 to be exact, which just so happens to fall on a Saturday next year. What do you think, Len? I almost feel -- Well, a bit sappy considering that date for our wedding. We could always do it a week later, but I'll admit, I kind of like the idea and the timing is probably right.

So think about that and let me know. Then I'll let Richard know so he can plan our shore leave around that time. Right now, I think I'm going to wander down to engineering for a spot inspection. They'll never be expecting it the night after a red alert drill.

I love you.

Always,  
Chris

 **To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Monday 2260.232 

Dear Len,

I certainly didn't make any new friends in engineering early this morning. I went down about 0300. Now, to be fair, there was nothing substantially wrong. All in all, I was pretty impressed, considering how many inexperienced crew members make up the engineering complement. Of course, I didn't let them know that. The more prepared they are, the more of them survive in an accident or battle. You're probably the only person I can admit this to -- Sometimes I get off on seeing them shake in their boots.

Otherwise, still a whole lot of nothing out here. Long range sensors are picking up planet-size formations in the next sector that we'll be mapping. We still have a few days here before we're done charting. Word sure spreads quickly though, as not an hour later I heard a couple of ensigns chatting about it in the gym. I think the crew is anxious to find something substantial, and I can't say that I blame them.

Speaking of the gym, I'm getting closer and closer to being able to run five miles without feeling like I'm going to die that last half mile or so. Still far from what I used to be able to run without effort, but I'm getting there. I usually swim right after. It helps me wind down while still being able to keep my heart rate up.

I'm starting to get into a pretty good routine. After I get off shift, I have a quick meeting with my command crew. No more than fifteen minutes, usually less. Then I spend about an hour with my command track students reviewing what exercises we did on the bridge that night. After I dismiss them, I usually spend an hour reading and answering comms. Yes, I'm eating breakfast. Rickie brings it to me when I'm done with my students before she turns in for the day. Then I hit the gym. And now, I'm back in my quarters usually reading, writing reports, and obviously right now I'm writing to you. I'm still only getting about five or six hours sleep right now, but I'm managing.

Speaking of sleep, I'm pretty wiped after today's workout, so I'm going to turn in. I hope these comms aren't boring you too much. I miss you, Len. I hope things are well.

Love always,  
Chris

 **To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
** From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Tuesday 2260.233 

Dear Chris,

I needed a couple of days to think before I answered your comm. I'm still not sure what I should say, other than that I'm okay. I'm dealing. I may not be 'talking' to Bones, but man, sometimes... I guess it helps a little, just not being alone. I _want_ to talk to Bones sometimes... Trouble is, I don't want to burden him or you. I'm not used to having anyone. Twenty-two years of being alone doesn't unravel itself very easily. Bones knows this and understands. He always has. You said you don't let people in -- I know what it's like to go through life without friends too. Bones... Well, he was my first real friend since I was a kid, or, really, my entire life. I stopped trusting and counting on anyone... Well, I was pretty young. I had to. Bones is the only one I trust implicitly, and truthfully, I don't ever see that changing.

I have always respected your leadership and I trust your abilities as a Captain. That doesn't mean I would have ever trusted you with things... Well, like personal things I've told Bones. I'm not saying that to hurt you, and yes, some of it has a lot to do with stuff that's happened since you and Bones started seeing each other. But even if those things hadn't happened, Chris, I don't think I would have ever 'spilled my guts' to you like I have with Bones. I looked up to you too much. I wouldn't have wanted to disappoint you.

I know you have a shitload of experience with what I'm dealing with at the moment. But, to put it bluntly, I'm not _you_ , Chris. Yeah, I'm struggling, but that's nothing new to me. I'm learning that while you and I are similar in some ways, there are more ways that we aren't. I'm not sure exactly what I'm saying here, and I do value your advice, Chris. Really I do. I know it isn't easy for you to open up like you did. Thank you for that. It means a lot to me. I really don't think talking about what happened is going to help me, though. I'm better at moving on without looking back.

I still hear your voice in my head from our meetings at the academy, you know. You would tell me over and over that as long as I learn from my mistakes, and try not make the same ones over and over, that I'd be the best starship captain possible. I know I'm going to make mistakes; obviously I already have. What was I supposed to learn from what happened? I've gone over that mission, and my actions, and my reasoning with Bones on why I should go. It was all sound. It was a fluke. I know it _was_ out of my control. That still doesn't change the fact that I did some terrible things to people who trusted me, and said some terrible things, to Bones especially. Now I have to learn to live with it. Bones forgave me way too easily, although I can't say I wouldn't have done the same if the situation was reversed.

I woke up screaming, shaking, and sweating again two nights ago from another nightmare. Luckily, Bones was parked on my couch and pulled me out of it pretty quickly. I shrugged him off when he asked what the nightmare was about, but he knew. They are all about him. About me hurting him. He gave me a sedative and gave me something to think about. He told me that maybe it was a good thing that I was the one that was split. It could have been another member of the away team who could have done far worse things. That helped a lot, to look at it that way.

I know you're worried about me, but scaring Bones with things you almost did... That's not helping, Chris. I'm not sure what I can do to reassure you. I guess it's the same as Bones not being able to reassure you that he's not going anywhere, that he's not going to leave you for me. Or that you have no reason to be jealous of me. I worry, Chris. Shit, I've seen firsthand what jealousy can do. Uncle Frank was always insanely jealous of how much both sets of grandparents loved me, especially _his_ parents. Sam was jealous that our dad's parents doted on me since I looked so much like my father. Frank was jealous of my mom and her Starfleet career and they fought _all_ the time. He took it out on us, me especially. It ripped my family apart. Shit, that's more than I wanted to say, but is that what you want to happen to you and Bones?

I'm sorry, it wasn't really my place to say anything, but I can't help it. I see how it tears Bones apart sometimes, how much it weighs on him. I want him to be happy, Chris. I want _you_ to be happy too, despite everything. I've never hated you, Chris, even during the shit storms that have happened the last couple of years. Was I disappointed? Yeah, I was. I'm pretty sure I've told you that before. In some ways, it helped me to see that you were human and you make stupid mistakes just like everyone else. Made the hero worship thing go away pretty quickly. It's given me a new perspective. A perspective I needed to become a better captain... a better person.

I owe you a lot, Chris. I know that. You mean a lot to me, despite the problems we've had. I care about you a lot, and yeah, I do love you. That doesn't mean I can open up to you about what happened with the transporter or about other things. I think what I have said before... what I've said now is about all I have. I hope you understand that.

I'm going to sign off now. I'll tell you more about my combat classes next time. I'm wiped. I've got a wicked cold and Bones took me off-shift an hour ago and sent me in here to sleep. I'm sure he'll be coming to check on me soon, and if he finds me up, he's not going to be happy. I'm sure you know how that is.

Just... thanks, Chris.

Jim

 **To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Tuesday 2260.233 

Dear Len,

Another uneventful day. Not that I'm complaining. I will let you know that I pulled a muscle in my thigh pretty badly this morning trying to run more than I should have. Philip is letting me suffer, thinking it will teach me a lesson. He should know better, but I'm managing. If he thinks that will slow me down, he's sadly mistaken. Of course, I probably shouldn't have just admitted that to you, although I'm sure you're not surprised.

I haven't heard from my mom in a few days. I think that might scare me. I usually get a comm or two a day updating me or asking questions. At least then I know what's going on, so I know what we're up against. This can't be anything good. I did hear from Annie though, and your little filly is doing well. Apparently she thinks she already owns the place. I have a feeling from the holos I've seen that we'll have our hands full with her. I'm attaching the latest that Annie sent me.

I admit, it's been a bit -- Well, I don't know, strange I guess, to be writing to you every day knowing you won't get this for days. It has helped, though. It makes me feel like I'm sharing my day with you. And please don't feel obligated to do the same. You're busier than I am, and you have your hands full with Jim at the moment. I'm enjoying doing this. I just hope I'm not putting you to sleep.

Not much new on the gossip loop. Rickie says things have quieted down about you and Jim, and that worried me at first, thinking something had changed. I shook it off though. I'm not getting as many 'sympathy' looks, although I have to admit once I give them my patented captain glare, it goes away pretty quickly. I think it also helps that I might have let it slip to Rickie that we've zeroed in on a wedding date and location. I suspect that put a quick end to the worst of the scuttlebutt.

Well, I don't really have anything else to say today. I think I'm going to make use of that tub you procured for me and soak my pulled muscle and other various aches and pains. Philip still says it's my old age. Remind me again why I thought it would be a good idea to have him as my CMO?

I love you, Len. A little over six weeks until I see you again. I can't wait, honey.

Love always,  
Chris

 **To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Wednesday 2260.234

Dear Len,

Philip gave in and treated my muscle pull. He saw that I was planning on running anyway, and said something to the effect of not wanting to be on the receiving end of one of your tirades if I made the injury worse. So thank you for that, although I'm sure you're swearing under your breath right now. Is it bad that thinking about that is making me hard?

Speaking about being hard -- I had the most amazing dream about us yesterday. I don't know where we were. It wasn't my place, or yours, or anywhere familiar to me. Just a house with a lot of sunlight coming through the windows and a big comfortable bed and both of us in it. Everything was white and crisp -- Even the flowers on the nightstand: Tulips. We were feeding each other some kind of white fruit. It was weird, everything being white, except it wasn't. It just made the color of your skin, the green in your eyes, and the dark hair on your head and scattered all over your body just that more beautiful.

At one point in the dream, you were riding me. My hands were tied to the bed directly above my head. My knees were up behind you, and you were arching back against them as I thrust into you. You had one hand on your cock, jerking yourself off, and the other rubbing and twisting your nipples. You head was thrown back, eyes closed and your mouth open and gasping as I hit your prostate with each thrust. You were practically humming in pleasure, long deep moans emanating deep from your throat. You looked so beautiful, Len. Your orgasm was so powerful that your come shot all over my chest and some on my chin, and into my mouth. The sight of you -- The taste of you pushed me over the edge and fuck Len, it felt so good. You licked your come off my chest and face, our tongues tangling as your body covered mine. I remember feeling so peaceful, so happy.

I woke up and I'd slept almost eight hours. I was so hard that once I wrapped my hand around my cock, I came less than thirty seconds later. I licked my hand clean, thinking of you, wishing you were here to do it for me. I wanted to lie in bed and remember the dream -- Remember the feel of being inside you, but it was almost time for my shift. I took a shower and went to the mess to eat dinner. Hopefully, this means I've turned a corner on the sleep issue. I'll keep you posted.

I'm attaching our travel itinerary for our trip to earth, for the engagement party. I ended up hiring two transports. I'm taking a shuttle to rendezvous with a ship at the closest outpost. Another ship will pick you and Jim up and then return Jim to the Enterprise the next day. You'll be going back three days later, on the same ship as me. We'll drop you off on the Enterprise and then I'll head back out to the outpost, where the shuttle will be waiting. If you have any questions, let me know. You'll arrive a couple hours before me, but my mom will pick you and Jim up and take you to the house.

I'm due in the mess in a few. We celebrate crew birthdays every Wednesday during lunch with cake and ice cream. Big group today. Twenty-seven crew members have a birthday this week. The youngest turning nineteen, the oldest seventy-four. It's one of my favorite times of the week.

Wish you were here to share the cake with me. I think I'd save some of the icing -- Actually, maybe I'd borrow a tube of it and have some fun making stripes down your cock and then licking it off. Would you like that, Len? I think we'll have to try that next time we're together.

I love you. God, I can't wait to be inside you again.

Always,  
Chris

 **To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Thursday 2260.235

Dear Len,

Today has not been a good day. Yesterday we celebrated birthdays, today we mourn the loss of a beloved crew member. Our head cook, Walter, died in his sleep last night. He didn't show up for alpha this morning and was found in his bed. He served Starfleet over seventy years, sometimes at the Academy, and a good deal of them on a ship, sometimes the ships I was on. He retired from Starfleet ten years ago, but decided to return to service after the Narada. I was more than glad to have him on the Exeter. He was ninety-five, and I guess it's hit me hard since he and my dad are about the same age, and both healthy and vibrant men. He leaves a wife, four children, and last time we talked, he had mentioned that his fiftieth grandchild had been born, a great-grandson.

After I found out, I sent a comm off to my father. My mother does most of the writing for the two of them, always has, but if I write him directly he always writes me back. I just -- I felt the need to check in with him, I guess.

I'm not sure when the memorial will be yet. I'm going to comm his wife, Alicia, as soon as I'm done writing you. Things like this are what I hate the most about being so far from home. It will be days before his family gets the news. I sent off the official report and Philip's medical report to Starfleet, which will, of course, take care of the notification. He has his final wishes listed in his Starfleet file, but I always like to check with the spouse/partner first as a courtesy.

Getting your comm when I got back to my quarters helped, despite -- Well, despite the fact that I can read between the lines and guess you're upset with me. Or maybe disappointed is a better word. I just know something's off Len, and I'm sorry. For what it's worth as far as your gossip on the Enterprise, Rickie is gay. She is not interested in men in the least. Can't say that I blame her, considering.

I know you're mine, Len. I hope you know that I'm yours too. I'm not really in the mood to talk about anything else right now. I need to get my thoughts together so I can send a video message to Alicia. She deserves nothing less.

I love you.

Always,  
Chris

 **To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Sunday 2260.238

Dear Chris,

Good lord, man, that's a lot to respond to. Not that I'm complaining. It's been really nice, getting a comm from you every day. Gives me something to look forward to.

Everything here is fine. Jim's got a cold and he's whining about it like an infant. I'll never understand how he refuses to admit it when he's got life-threatening injuries, but when he's got something that's only a minor inconvenience you'd think the world was ending from the amount he complains. Other than that, though, nothing going on -- a whole lot of empty space and a whole bunch of jumpy crewmembers.

Before I go on, let me say that I'm sorry about Walter's passing. I know it's never easy losing someone, even when it's their time. Hopefully it will be some comfort to his family that he went peacefully and painlessly. So many of us in Starfleet aren't granted that blessing.

You said in one of your comms that I was upset with you, and that isn't quite the right word -- I'm discouraged, maybe, that you don't think you'll ever get over your jealousy. But we've beaten that dead horse into a bloody pulp and I don't really want to talk about it anymore.

All right, this is about the _worst_ transition of all time, but speaking of horses -- yeah, yeah, I know, I'm wincing too.

The holos of the filly are beautiful. She looks like a fine animal, Chris, beautiful and spirited. She has that look in her eye like she's the master of all she surveys, and as far as she's concerned the rest of us can just fall in line. Reminds me of someone I know. And no, I _don't_ mean Jim.

I'm glad you got her for me. Really, Chris, I am. I'll probably want to keep her at the place in Mojave for now, since you've already got a stables set up with a trainer and all. I can't wait to meet her. I'll start thinking of a name pretty enough to match her.

Let's see, what else. I'd prefer Risa for shore leave, if it's safer. You put yourself in harm's way enough as it is. Sometimes I wish I could wrap you up in protective padding and keep you safely on Earth. But then, I know that there's no guarantee of safety even on Earth, and I know that playing it safe isn't in your vocabulary. I just worry. You know that.

I think the idea of getting married on the anniversary of our first date is a nice one, Chris. It'll make it even more meaningful for us. Plus that way I'll only have to remember one anniversary. Of course, I'll probably forget anyway. Jocelyn used to give me hell for that.

I'm going to have to comm Philip and ask him what the hell he's thinking, letting you run yourself ragged the way you are. For god's sake, Chris, slow down and take it easy. You don't have anything to prove to anyone. You obviously haven't lost your edge, since you've still got 'em shaking in their boots.

Here's where I admit that I get off on that thought too. I can picture you running a red alert drill, so calm and competent, completely in control of the situation. And then, good lord, the next night doing a surprise inspection. I can just see you striding into engineering, with that stern look on your face, raising an eyebrow as you tour the place, everyone scuttling around, trying desperately to avoid your disapproval. Damn it, now I'm hard as a rock. You are goddamn sexy when you're in command.

So how about this -- I won't judge you for liking it when I get grumpy and grumble at you about your health, if you won't judge me for liking it when you go into calm, cool captain mode.

Good lord, Chris, your dream. It sounds amazing, darlin'. Wish I could be with you so we could do all of those things you dreamed about, but I know we can't. Not yet. Fuck, I miss you so much. Nothing's quite right when I'm not with you. All right, all right, now I'm just bringing myself down.

Don't ever think you're boring me with these comms. I love getting them. Makes me feel closer to you, just knowing what's going on in your daily life.

Stay safe, darlin'. I love you.

Always,  
Len

  



	42. Holding His Pocket-Handkerchief (Part 39 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The correspondence and personal journals of Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy.

_**Trek Fic: Holding His Pocket-Handkerchief (Pike/McCoy, R)**_  
 **Title:** Holding His Pocket-Handkerchief (Part 39 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.dreamwidth.org/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.dreamwidth.org/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** R  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** Around 3200  
 **Summary:** The correspondence and personal journals of Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy.  
 **A/N:** From [](http://mga1999.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.dreamwidth.org/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.dreamwidth.org/): Um, we are braindead but at least we have mostly recovered from theplagueTM (a.k.a. that stupid summer cold/flu thing that's been going around).

  


  
**To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Tuesday 2260.240

Hey darlin',

Just wanted to make sure everything's all right. I guess the downside of having you write to me every day is that if you miss a day or two I get paranoid that something's happened. I'm sure you just got busy, but when you have a minute, just drop me a line or two so I know you're okay. I know you're alive and that everything's relatively normal, at least, because my ring's been swirling through the usual colors. I'm glad I've got that. Without it, I'd be even more of a nervous wreck.

Everything's fine here. Jim's cold is racing through the entire crew now, and while I tease him about how that might have happened, the truth is that it's because he makes the rounds nearly every day, checks in with every department, spends time chatting with everyone from the goons in security to the brainiacs in stellar cartography. And naturally he has to touch everyone, a clap on the shoulder or a handshake for a job well done. Of course, they love him for it, even when they all end up catching every damn germ he carries. Then in return, they give him every damn germ every single one of _them_ is carrying, and he spreads it around. He's the Typhoid Mary of Starfleet.

We encountered a Klingon ship in the neutral zone yesterday. It was tense, but nothing happened. They stayed on their side, we stayed on ours, and then we each went our separate ways. Still, it was kind of strange to actually see someone else out here, after so many weeks.

By the way, I picked a name for the filly. Nora. Short for Eleanora, my mama's name. I know it seems like a strange tribute to name a horse after my deceased mama, but she loved all animals, and horses especially. I know she'd appreciate it.

I better go now. Got to hand out more decongestants to the snot-dripping crew of the U.S.S. Enterprise. It's a glamorous life I lead, let me tell you.

I love you. Write back soon, all right?

Always,  
Len

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike**

_Wednesday 2260.241_

Well, I was certainly relieved to get Len's comm from Sunday and find out he's not upset with me. I've been worried, that by admitting my jealousy issues weren't going to disappear -- Well, I suppose my worst fear is that he'll get fed up and leave me. Mostly, I just hate disappointing him. I know I have, and frankly I don't know what else to do. I'm trying to be honest with him, but maybe I shouldn't have been so forthright. I don't know.

I'm struggling right now. I've caught a cold that was going around and couple that with the fact that I'm not sleeping enough, well, Philip restricted me from duty the last couple of days. My blood pressure has been up, and my immune system can't even fight off the cold. Philip has me staying in my quarters, afraid I'll catch something worse, which wouldn't be good right now. Honestly, that hasn't helped. He finally agreed to let me have my trainees in quarters as long as I stay at my desk with an air sanitizer running.

Fuck, I'm frustrated. I really wanted to be in peak shape when I see Len next month and this is really going to set me back. I can hear him grousing at me that it doesn't matter, but it matters to me. And feeling like this right now is making the jealousy flare up more than usual. I've been irrational to the point that I haven't even written Len in almost a week. And I really don't have a good excuse other than the fact that my ego was bruised by Jim's comm and the fact that no matter what, Len and Jim are always perfectly fine and seem to be able to work through anything and come out better for it. Yet, Len and I are struggling over the same damn issues. Fuck.

I don't know. I'm sure I'm making more out of it than it is. I know if I could actually _talk_ to Len right now -- I'm sure all the doubts I'm having wouldn't be as bad. I feel ridiculous for feeling like this. Dr. Rossen wrote me back a couple of days ago - We've been discussing how I've been feeling. Well, she told me it sounds like insecurity. Reading that word -- Fuck. First, I'd never been jealous before and look what happened. Now, apparently I've moved on to becoming insecure and doesn't that just make me fucking pathetic at my age.

Well, writing certainly isn't helping this time. I feel worse now. I'm going to just bite the bullet and write Len, like I should have been this entire time. Fuck, I'm stupid sometimes.

 **To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Wednesday 2260.241

  
Dear Len,

I'm sorry that it's been awhile since I've written. Been a little under the weather and I needed some time to digest the comm that Jim sent me. Now before you march up to Jim and start one of your tirades, he didn't say anything he shouldn't have. In fact, everything he said was true. It's _my_ problem, and while it's given me more insight into Jim, frankly -- Well, it's also made me look at myself and like last time I did that, I really didn't like what I saw.

I'll work it out though, so don't worry. I'm okay. The cold I caught hasn't helped. It's been going around the bridge crew and since I'm still a bit immuno-suppressed it was only a matter of time until I got it, no matter what precautions I took.

Philip is taking good care of me. Actually, he's driving me crazy checking up on me. He took me off shift for a couple of days and forbade me from entering the gym. Literally used his medical override to lock me out. Bastard. I just wanted to swim, but he won't relent. Truthfully, I'm confined to quarters although he did finally agree to allow me to have my students in as long as I stay at my desk. Seriously, Len, are you giving him lessons on intimidation? Because he's doing a damn good job. He and Rickie are also conspiring. I can't win.

I may need to switch off Gamma shift. I am just not able to sleep well enough and Philip wasn't happy with my blood pressure or other test results. I'm sure he's sent them to you, and I swear, other than my workouts, I've been doing everything I should. I'm frustrated again, Len. More than I can say.

I really liked the time at night I could spend with my students. It was quiet and we could do a lot more. I can't exactly take the senior crew off the bridge during the day. Well, I'm Captain, of course I could, but it's just not right. That's one reason why I wanted to work Gamma -- to give them the opportunity to spend extra time on the bridge at various stations. I'm going to try to hold out as long as I can. If you have any suggestions, I'm open to hearing them.

I decided to let the Exeter crew vote on shore leave. It wasn't entirely fair for me to arbitrarily pick Risa since that's what we want. In the end, it worked out as Risa won seventy four percent of the vote. So Risa it is. As soon as I get the exact dates, I'll secure us a house on a private beach away from it all.

Mom said everything for the engagement party is set. I'm warning you, she told me she sent out over five hundred invites and expects three hundred to accept. I reminded her that we were only going along with this big a party in exchange for a much smaller wedding. She evaded answering that nicely. I think we're screwed, Len. Maybe _you_ should write her. She might listen to you.

Otherwise, the possible planet formations turned out to be nothing habitable. Just a bunch of dead rocks and gas giants. We're almost done with this sector and then we're moving on to the next. I hope we find something soon as the crew is getting more and more stir-crazy, myself included. The only thing keeping me going is knowing in a month I'll be back on Earth and will be able to see you. I almost feel guilty as my crew won't have that benefit, so I'm hoping to get them extra time on Risa. They deserve it.

Well, I'm going to wrap up here. I need to try to get some sleep so I can hopefully feel well enough for my shift tonight. I have a feeling Philip isn't going to allow it, but I want to at least try to meet with my students if I can't be on the bridge.

I didn't forget what you said about how much you love seeing me in command mode. Luckily, there are security holos of me from our red alert drill and my impromptu trip to engineering. I've attached them. You're welcome.

I'm feeling old, Len. Old and tired. I know it will pass, but right now -- I don't know. I miss you and I wish you were here to remind me that I'm not.

Love you, honey. So much.

Chris

 **To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date sent: Thursday 2260.242

Dear Len,

I really don't have anything new to report. I've been in a pretty rotten mood. That's partly why I haven't written and I'm sorry. I wish I could talk to you -- See your face, hear your voice. I'm sure that would alleviate a lot of what I'm feeling. Fuck, Len, right now I'm feeling back to -- I don't know how to explain it. You know the time when I was questioning my feelings? Wait, that is probably not reassuring to you. I have absolutely no doubts like then, that's not what I mean. Fuck. I should probably erase all of this, but I want you to see what I mess I am right now. I'm sure the lack of sleep isn't helping. Being sick isn't either.

Bottom line, I'm feeling insecure, Len. Another wonderful fucked up feeling I'm experiencing for the first time. I didn't even know what was going on until Dr. Rossen pointed it out to me. It's nothing you've done, so don't blame yourself. Dr. Rossen pointed out it's part of a relationship -- It's normal. I'm so glad after all this time I'm finally becoming _normal_. Can you hear the sarcasm there? I would laugh, but honestly, I feel like crying.

I'm sure that's reassuring to you. It's not really that bad, Len. Really. I'm sure if you think of it from your doctor/psychological perspective you'll know that -- I'm just dealing with things new to me. I keep trying to tell myself that, but it makes me feel weak and -- Well, you know how well that goes over with me. I swear I'm not going to do anything stupid like I usually do when I feel like that. I've learned that much. I'm trying to rest, take it easy, but frankly I'm going stir crazy. I need to be on the bridge. I need to -- Fuck, I just need you, Len. It scares me how much.

Look, I'm probably scaring you, and I still have half a notion to delete this, but I'm going to send it. Because I don't want to hide anything from you. Even if it scares me to send this -- scares me what you'll think of me after reading it. I read it myself and I feel -- Fuck, I feel pathetic.

I'm okay. Well, I'm not okay, but you know what I mean. I just need some sleep. I need to get rid of this virus. I need to get back to work. So I'm going to let Philip sedate me so I can get some rest. Hopefully, tomorrow I'll feel better.

I love you, Len. So damn much.

Chris

 **To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Friday 2260.243

Dear Len,

Just got your comm, and you've already received my last two -- Or I hope you have, so you know I'm fine. Well, not fine, but I'm getting there. I will say, that just getting your comm, reading it, I feel better already. Of course, that also makes me feel even more pathetic, but after talking to Philip about all of this for a couple hours earlier, I'm taking his advice and just -- Well, he said to embrace it. Whatever the fuck that means. He always has been the type who's in touch with his feelings. Bastard.

The name for the filly is beautiful, Len. I've already sent a note to Annie so she can get her formally registered. It suits her. The more holos I see of her -- the name's just perfect. I'm attaching a few more holovids, including a long one of her butting heads with a colt a couple months older than her. Once you see it, I think you'll see we're going to have our hands full with her.

I'm glad Jim is feeling better. I can't say I'm much better, but at least I'm not any worse. I worked half of Gamma and Philip let me swim some -- Not a lot, but I think he realizes I needed it. I stopped when I started coughing and was out of breath -- See, I do know that I have limits. Doesn't mean I have to like it.

I find it ironic that both of our ships have a bug going around on them right now. I told Philip you two should compare notes. He just looked at me like I was crazy, thinking they could be related. I reminded him stranger things have happened.

I'm glad nothing happened with the Klingon ship. I'm sure they are simply out on patrol just like you are. You're bound to run into each other once in a while, I'm just glad there was no aggression on their part. I'm worried more about the Romulans. Diplomatically, the Klingons have been more receptive to the Federation's overtures. Well, as receptive as Klingons can be. The Romulans, however, are another story. What a mess, and I have a feeling it's only going to get worse. I hope I'm wrong for once.

Well, I'm going to get some sleep. Philip wants to run more tests before my shift tonight. I'm doing better, Len, so stop worrying so much. I'll figure this out. I always do. I'm going to take a few days off from writing again unless something changes -- Just thought I'd let you know this time.

Take care and be safe, my love.

I love you.

Chris

 **To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Tuesday 2260.247

Dear Chris,

Good to hear from you. Glad nothing dire's been happening. It's good that you're enjoying your time with your trainees. You've got a lot to teach them, and they're lucky as hell that they've got you to learn it from. And if I'm remembering correctly from the semester you taught at the Academy, and I know I am, I bet at least one or two of them has more than a bit of a crush on you.

That's all right with me. Let 'em look, and dream. At the end of the day, you're mine, and now everyone knows it. You're not an old man, Chris. You're barely even middle-aged. And you're goddamned sexy. Fuck, I'm horny. It's been way too long since I've had your cock in my mouth, in my hands, and buried inside my ass. Watching the footage of you during the emergency drill and the surprise inspection didn't help at all with that little problem. I've jerked off more than once to those vids already, and I can tell they're going to make it into the regular rotation along with the porn vids we made. How is it that you get me off so damn hard when you're not even trying? I guess that's a mystery for the ages.

I had to laugh that you actually let your crew _vote_ on where to take shore leave. When did Starfleet become a democracy? Better watch out, or your crew'll start expecting a say in command decisions too. But I know you, Chris, and I know you wouldn't've put it to a vote unless you knew exactly which way it was going to come out already. Which even I could've predicted -- offer a crew Rigel or Risa, and lord knows they'll pick Risa every time. I'm not normally one for the glitz of the place, but a nice secluded beach house for two sounds just about perfect.

Hell no, I'm not going to comm your mother about her wedding plans. I may not be much of a politician or a diplomat, but even I know better than to stand between a prospective mother-in-law and her dreams of a perfect wedding for her child. I'm not suicidal, Chris. As long as we're being all democratic, my vote would be that we let her plan whatever the hell she wants, enjoy it the best we can, and then have a honeymoon so scorching that neither of us can remember the wedding by the time we're done. How's that sound, darlin'?

God damn, I'm horny. Yeah, I know I already said that, but it bears repeating. You better rest up and recuperate because you're going to need all your strength for when I get my hands on you. I know you're not feeling good, but I've been reading the reports from Philip and both you and he are doing everything that can be done. Sometimes the body's just got to heal in its own time. You'll feel better soon, Chris, I promise.

You said you thought your comms might scare me, but Chris, I know you by now, and you don't scare me. And you're not getting rid of me that easily, so stop worrying that you're going to lose me. Yeah, even I know how to read between the lines. You're getting into your head again, driving yourself crazy thinking about what-ifs and might-bes. Well, stop it. I'm giving you my most intimidating look right now, and you know when you see that look I'm goddamn serious.

I love you, you moody bastard. Now quit moping.

Always,  
Len

  



	43. "I Deeply Sympathize" (Part 40 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The correspondence and personal journals of Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy.

_**Trek Fic: "I Deeply Sympathize" (Pike/McCoy, R-ish)**_  
 **Title:** "I Deeply Sympathize" (Part 40 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** mild R, if that  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** Around 4100  
 **Summary:** The correspondence and personal journals of Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy.  
 **A/N:** From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) : Sad that we've had this done over a week and are just getting it out to you. /PATHETIC. From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/): Sorry for the delay! But I've got a Jim/Bones fic in the works which is 14,000 words already and it should be posted soon, so hopefully that makes up for it, at least partially? :D?

  


To: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Monday 2260.246

Dear Jim,

I'm sorry it's taken me so long to write you back, son. I needed some time to let everything you said sink in. It was hard to read your last comm -- I'll admit, it hurt. But it was all the truth and I deserve it, Jim. I nearly ruined the relationship we have. I'm still very grateful that you're still speaking to me. When I was your age, I probably wouldn't have been willing to do that, if I was in your place. Still, your comm made me do a lot of thinking, and when I try to get in touch with what I guess I'd call my emotional side, nothing good ever comes of it.

I'm glad you're feeling better. Whether he admits it or not, and although he acts like it's not a big deal -- I can read between the lines. Len was worried about you. He always worries, even if it's just a cold. It's not fun to get sick -- Especially when you're dealing with other things. I've been pretty sick myself lately, and I'm -- Well, I'm having a rough time.

You're right though. While we are the same in a lot of ways, I can see how different we are too. I say that meaning that for as young as you are, you are far ahead where I was at your age, especially emotionally. Like I said above, I wouldn't have forgiven so easily, although I'm sure I haven't been forgiven completely. I know I have to earn that, and I know it isn't going to be easy.

You don't owe me anything, Jim. In fact, in some ways, it's me who's in your debt. If it wasn't for you -- Your friendship with Len when he joined Starfleet. Well, just thank you. I know that you were instrumental in his healing from the hell he went through before enlisting. He would have been in no shape or form ready for the relationship with me without you. So let's call it even and get back to what we should have been doing all this time. I should have been helping you more. You've had the Enterprise for over two years and you've done a hell of a job, son, and with the brass pretty much out to get you from day one. I hope some of the files and reports I've been sending you are helping. I'm working on -- Well, let's just say I have key people who I trust looking out for your interests now.

Look, I just want you to know that you're right. Everything you said about jealousy -- You're right. I wish I could explain. I wish I could tell you that it's under control, but that would be a lie. A lot of this relationship stuff is still new to me and I'm stumbling through it. I've failed spectacularly at times. Unfortunately you've seen those times and been caught up in them. Again, I'm sorry. I don't know what to say. I don't think there _is_ anything I can say. You know that I love Len. You know that I love you, too. I never intended to hurt either of you, but I have.

I'm glad you're working out what happened in your own way, Jim. I didn't mean to imply to you, or Len, that -- Well, I don't know exactly what I thought. Wait, yes I did. I was terrified of something happening to you, because I know -- I _know_ that Len might not survive that. That's hard to swallow. I think you can understand that. He tells me that he'd be the same way if something happened to me, but I don't think that's true. I think as long as he has you -- If something happened to me, he'd be okay. I'm someone who's pretty much lived a charmed life Jim, pretty much taking and getting whatever I've wanted. It's all different now.

You know I have an ego, just like you do. Mine may be more subtle than yours -- I just like to think of it as seasoned and well tested. I know how to get what I want, and have never had to worry about losing anything or anyone -- I didn't care enough to worry. And then in the blink of an eye, I almost die at the hand of a mad Romulan. Lose my ability to walk. Lose my ship and pretty much my sanity. All while falling in love for the first time in my life and learning about feelings and emotions that I didn't know existed. Some days I barely feel like I'm keeping my head above water. Len's worth it -- More than worth it. I'm a lucky bastard and I know that -- Most of the time anyway.

Fuck, Jim. Once again I've probably told you more than I should have, and I'm feeling -- Well, I'm feeling vulnerable. I know you don't like feeling like that - Neither do I. I'm learning though, or trying to, that it's not a weakness. It's far worse to hide what you're feeling, who you are, from those you love. And I do love you, Jim. I want you to be safe, and happy. I hope you know that.

I'm due in medical for more tests. Do write me and tell me about what's going on, and let me know if you're having any trouble with the brass. I hopefully have everything in place -- People in place to take care of that for you.

Take care, son, and write soon.

Chris

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Saturday 2260.251

Dear Len,

I wasn't sure whether I should write you or not -- I'm still as you put it, a moody bastard. Maybe even moreso than last time I wrote. Philip pointed out the other night that whenever I'm not feeling well, I get like this. Fuck, Len. I feel like I'm losing my mind again. I can read your words over and over again, hear your voice in my head, yet I keep wondering what the hell you're doing with me.

If you've kept up with Philip's updates to my medical records, I'm _still_ sick. I know you two have been corresponding about whether I could safely be removed from the immuno-suppressants at this point. He says that's still a last resort and is giving it more time, but he actually admitted to me he's worried about my mental health. That actually made me chuckle. I told him I was already convinced I'd lost my mind anyway. Either way, my body doesn't seem to be able to fight this off no matter what I do, so he's at least relented and I've been back on duty.

Otherwise, nothing is new. We're finding nothing out here. The good thing about that is we're ahead of schedule. That's always nice in case we do find somewhere we'd like to spend more time exploring later. The bad thing, is the crew is going stir crazy. If we stay ahead of schedule, I may divert the Exeter to drop me at Starbase Zulu IV instead of taking a shuttle to meet the ship I chartered. That will allow the crew to have a bit of shore leave while I'm on Earth. Not much there other than a moon colony, but at least it will be a change of scenery for them. We'll see.

I took your advice and I'm just giving up on controlling my mother for our wedding. You're right, but there is a small part of me that wants to keep fighting her on it. It is after all supposed to be _my_ wedding, or _our_ wedding, really, and we both want something small and intimate. Of course, thinking like that makes me feel like _the bride_ so we won't even go there.

Speaking of the honeymoon -- We haven't really talked about that. I don't know how much time we'll have yet, but is there anywhere you'd like to go? And yeah, I know you'll say it doesn't matter as you just want to be with me, and I feel the same. Yet, it is our honeymoon, honey, and I'd love to take you somewhere you've never been, even if it's just on earth. I told you once I know a lot of private out-of-the-way places. You just need to tell me whether you want somewhere warm, or cold. A beach, forest, jungle, desert or the mountains? I don't even know if you've ever been skiing. I have, and I'd love to teach you. So give it some thought. I really want to know what _you'd_ like.

I'm sorry you're horny. I can't say that I have been. I'm glad you liked the security vids. I knew you would. If I wasn't feeling so bad I'm sure I'd be getting off on the fact that you were enjoying them so much. I'm doing all I can to feel better, I promise. I certainly don't want to be feeling like this when we're together in a few weeks. I could make a bad pun here that maybe all I need is an injection of _you_.

Yeah, yeah. That was terrible, so I'm going to go for a swim and hopefully get some sleep.

In a month I'll be with you. God, I can't wait.

Love always,  
Chris

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Thursday 2260.256

Dear Len,

Nothing new. I could literally write a comm identical to the last one and it would all be true. We definitely will be finishing up the first half of our mission early. We're charting these sectors almost three times faster than scheduled. We're going to do an extra one even before we head to Starbase Zulu IV.

Otherwise, right now I'm just resigned to feeling like shit. I'm still on Gamma, and am planning on staying on this shift until after shore leave. Then I think I'm going to take Beta. I can spend time with my students before my shift, and then I'll let them sit on the bridge the last couple of hours.

I'm trying to distract myself. I've been playing my guitar a lot. I've been reading. I'm still swimming, but that's about it. I'm not even writing in my journal; it would just be entry after entry of the same thing. Dr. Rossen says it will pass once I'm over this damn bug. Philip says it will pass, and obviously you aren't worried, but -- Fuck, Len. I'm worried. I don't like being out of control. I'm not _used_ to it. Of course, no one knows I am except for you, Philip, and Dr. Rossen. Hell, Rickie doesn't even suspect I'm not myself other than being a little crankier than usual because I'm sick. I like to think that's you rubbing off on me.

How is Jim doing? I'm sure you're surprised I'm asking, but I haven't heard from him since I sent my last comm well over a week ago. I don't remember if I told you this or not, but you were right. Jim's going to be fine. He's so much more -- I don't know, mature doesn't seem like the right word. Maybe it's just because he has so much more life experience than I had at his age. Not that those experiences were good, but they helped him grow into the man that he is. Then there is the fact that he has you. Whether you believe it or not, I _am_ glad he has you, Len. That doesn't mean I always have to like it. Just trying to be honest.

I'm attaching more holos of Nora. I think Annie is madly in love with her as she seems to film her almost every day. I'm not sure how she's going to tear herself away next month. I was teasing her about that in my last comm to her, she promptly told me to shut up. Typical Annie.

Nothing new from my mother. I think she's taking my silence on the matter as carte blanche. Remember later when we're at the circus that will be our wedding that you said to let her have what she wanted. You were warned. I'm not kidding, Len. Did I ever tell you she had two thousand people at a party for me the first time I came home after I turned eighteen and had been at Starfleet for seven months? Yes, she told me she was just throwing a 'little' party for me. Are you scared yet?

Well, I guess I found more to write about than I thought. I'm sorry, Len. I'm really sorry that I've been in such a crappy mood. I should have been writing you more. I've been selfish and feeling sorry for myself. And no, that wasn't easy to admit. I'll try to do better, but I don't know Len. I'm just feeling -- Fuck. I'm going to shut up now before I say something stupid. Because honestly, I don't even know what I'm feeling right now.

I love you. Twenty-four days until I see you. It's the only thing keeping me going right now.

Yours always, although I think you probably want to give me a swift kick in the ass right now.

Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Sunday 2260.259

Dear Chris,

Okay, now I _am_ starting to get worried about you. It's unusual for you to be so down for so long, cold or not. If you don't start feeling better soon, I want you to talk to Philip about getting on an anti-depressant. Yeah, I know you don't like the idea, but there's no shame in needing one, and you may not need it long-term, just until you get through this down phase. All right, medical lecture over and I'm going to try to stay out of it beyond this one piece of advice because I know it drives you crazy when I act like your doctor instead of your lover.

You're _sorry_ that I'm horny? Good god, man, I'm not. Jerking off is one of the few unmitigated pleasures I've got on this damn tin can, and I'm going to enjoy it every chance I get. Speaking of which, are you trying to make me insane by mentioning that you're playing your guitar again? I want you to send me a vid of you playing. I'm _definitely_ going to be getting myself off while I watch that. Fuck, darlin', you are so damn sexy when you're playing that guitar, your long fingers moving over the strings -- reminds me of the way your fingers move over my skin. And the look of intense concentration and pleasure on your face is unbelievably hot. And if you're singing too -- lord, I don't stand a chance. Okay, now I'm hard just thinking about that. Since I'm out in a common area of the ship, that's going to be goddamn uncomfortable when I stand up. Better move on to other topics.

I'm actually sitting in the rec room, watching Spock and Jim play tri-d chess while I'm writing this. Spock kicks Jim's ass every time, and yet Jim keeps coming back for more. He's getting better, though -- not that I'd be able to tell except that the games are lasting longer and Spock has to concentrate a little harder than he used to. By which I mean, he sounds just _slightly_ less full of himself while he lectures Jim about the strategy and history of chess. I'd want to smack him in the face if I were Jim -- hell, I'm not even the one playing him and I want to smack him in the face anyway -- but Jim just sits there with a smile and that determined look in his eye. You know the one I mean. The one that says "Bar the door, Nelly, 'cause here I come!" Spock hasn't learned yet to be afraid of that look, but he'll learn. One of these days Jim's going to turn the tables on him and start kicking _Spock's_ ass, and Spock's eyebrows are going to fly clear off the top of his head. It's why I keep watching. I'm looking forward to that.

I've been reading up on Vulcan-Human genetic hybridization so I can assist Nyota in getting pregnant. I'm thinking of it as helping Nyota have a baby, not helping Spock have a baby. Makes it much more palatable that way.

Did you know there's an entire body of scientific literature based on Spock's conception and birth? It's a pretty obscure backwater of reproductive genetics, but it's there. I've put in a request to the UFP Library to have it uploaded and sent to me, since it's not maintained on the central database.

The betting continues unabated on Sulu and Chekov's not-yet-budding romance. At this rate, I think Chekov might buy a clue and realize that Sulu's mooning over him before Sulu works up the nerve to make a move. Which is pretty pathetic, considering that the kid pretty much only ever thinks about numbers and Russia, from what I can tell.

Well, Spock just checkmated Jim but that's a new record for how long the game went on. Jim's getting closer to being able to beat him. And now I'm getting tired so I think I'll turn in for the night. I'll respond to the rest of your comms tomorrow.

I love you, darlin', and don't you dare doubt it.

Always,  
Len

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Monday 2260.260

Dear Chris,

As promised, here I am, writing you again. I'm on my lunch break, sitting in the mess as I write this. Jim's sitting across from me, working on some reports. I'm having the cook's amazing lentil vegetable soup and Jim's having a damn bacon cheeseburger. Although at least I made him get a salad on the side instead of french fries. He'd never eat anything green if I didn't practically force it down his throat, with him bitching about it the whole time like I was torturing him. As you probably gathered from my last comm and from this one, Jim's doing well. He's in fine fettle, actually, having gotten over the cold that the rest of the crew's now suffering with.

Darlin', if you want to fight your mother about the wedding, be my guest. I'm staying the hell out of it, though. Sons can get away with a lot of things that sons-in-law can't. Your mother approves of me, and I'd like to keep it that way. Seriously, though, whether there's twenty guests or two thousand, really all that matters is that at the end of it, we'll be married.

As for the honeymoon, let me give it some thought. Cold weather doesn't really appeal unless we've got a cozy cabin that we never leave.

Come to think of it, I've never been to the Mediterranean and I've always wanted to go, particularly to the region that used to be called Turkey. The Byzantine Empire and all that. And I know you like the water, so maybe we could do some sailing -- I remember you once talked about you and me on a boat in the endless blue, making love under the sun. As long as I dose myself with plenty of anti-nausea meds, and slap plenty of sunscreen on us both, that sounds downright amazing. What do you think?

For a total shift in subject, what's Annie going to be doing while we're at the ranch in Mojave? I've been feeling guilty for kicking her out of her home, and now I feel even worse, given her attachment to Nora.

Speaking of Nora, I can't wait to meet her. She's a feisty one, I can tell from the vids, and she's going to be one hell of a beautiful mare. Probably lead your stallions a merry chase.

Well, got to be getting back on duty now. Take care of yourself, and listen to Philip. Wait, let me amend that -- listen to Philip and _do what he tells you to do_. You see, darlin', I really do know you well.

I love you, and I'm never going to stop.

Always,  
Len

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Thursday 2260.263

Dear Len,

I think maybe I should just go back to not writing for awhile because I can't seem to say anything without you not understanding what I mean.

I'm _not_ depressed, Len. I'm sick. Haven't you seen all the tests Philip has run? Have you seen my white blood cell count? Add in that I'm not sleeping -- You try being like that for weeks and not feel a little out of sorts. I'm frustrated. I'm bored. I miss you. Depressed, fuck no. Soon to be a raving lunatic? Possibly.

Another sector down, another bunch of nothing. In all of Starfleet's exploration history, there has literally never been so much 'dead' space. I'm so glad we were the ones to find it.

When I said I was sorry you were horny, Len, I meant that I was sorry that you _had_ to be horny without me being there to do anything about it. And the fact that half the time I don't even have the energy to even think about jerking off, or the desire to send you dirty comms -- Fuck, I feel pretty -- Well, I feel worthless right now.

I know that you love me, Len. I don't doubt that. That's not what I meant either. I just don't know why you put up with me sometimes. Believe me, I'm grateful that you are. I know I'm not an easy man to put up with even in the best of moods. Factor in all this emotional shit that I'm trying and obviously _failing_ at trudging through. It just doesn't make sense why you haven't sent me packing. Fuck. This is all probably going to come across wrong too.

To subjects I hopefully won't screw up -- Since the Exeter is getting shore leave while I'm gone now, Philip is going to come with me and go to the party. Allen will be on earth and I'm getting the impression they are having issues again so he's going to spend some time with him and then come back with us.

You aren't kicking Annie out of her home. She's going to be with my parents on a cruise to Greece that was planned long before our engagement party. They take off the morning after for two weeks. I'm sure she'll be vidcomming us daily to see how Nora's doing. She'll be fine. Annie loves baby animals. Any of them. Not that she still doesn't love them when they get older, but she's especially attached to babies. Yes, the human kind to. If we ever do have a baby, we'll be lucky if we can get him/her out of her arms.

I'm going to sign off now. Only a couple weeks until I see you. By the way, I booked us a hotel room where the party is being held up. Despite how I'm feeling, if anyone thinks I'm going to be able to keep my hands off of you from the time you arrive until after the party -- Well, let's just say I plan on us getting to the hotel early so we can fuck each other senseless before we have to be put on public display. They might just have to have the party without us.

Your moody bastard,  
Chris

  



	44. That They Could Get It Clear (Part 41 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The correspondence and personal journals of Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy.

_**Trek Fic: That They Could Get It Clear (Pike/McCoy, PG-13)**_  
 **Title:** That They Could Get It Clear (Part 41 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** PG-13  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** Around 3500  
 **Summary:** The correspondence and personal journals of Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy.  
 **A/N:** From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/): DUDES. With this part, we've cleared 250,000 words. A QUARTER OF A MILLION WORDS. We... don't even know what to say about that.

  


To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Sunday 2260.266

Dear Chris:

All right, now I _do_ want to give you a swift kick in the ass. You say you're not depressed but then you tell me you're feeling worthless. Chris, that's one of the textbook symptoms of depression. It sure ain't a symptom of a cold or flu. Plus, depression causes sleep disturbances, and can further suppress your immune system, so it might be keeping you sick longer than you otherwise would have been. And, of course, a guy like you who's used to being physically well, when you're not in good health it can contribute to depression. It's all tangled up, and you can't just separate it out and say "it's not depression, it's a cold."

But fine, if you want to be in denial about it, there's nothing I can do to change your mind.

Tell you what, when you're done feeling sorry for yourself, and when you're done taking it out on me, why don't you write to me again and we can go from there.

I love you, and I'm not sending you packing, but seriously, Chris, enough is enough.

Hope I hear from you soon, but if not, I'll see you earthside, and we'll talk then.

Love,  
Len

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Wednesday 2260.269

Dear Len,

Look, when you can write to me as my lover, and not as a doctor, and stop lecturing me when you really have _no_ idea -- Fuck, Len. When you can write to me as the man who loves me and understands that I'm simply sick and frustrated and hate feeling out of control -- Fuck.

Jesus Len, have you even _read_ your comms? I'm trying my damndest to be honest and forthright and tell you what I'm feeling -- Which you know damn well I'm not good at, and you still don't get it. Maybe you don't want to get it. I don't know.

Yes, I'm feeling sorry for myself. I didn't know that was so terrible. I've had fucking one medical problem after another the last two and a half years when I'd hardly been sick or injured a day in my life before that. No, I'm not taking it well. Would you?

When I said I felt worthless, I meant worthless to _you_. Jesus. I'm sure you'll have some psycho-babble to turn everything else I've said here against me too.

I guess enough _is_ enough. I'll just go back to not talking about how I'm really feeling and just tell you how _fine_ I am.

Chris

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Monday 2260.274

Dear Len,

I'm sorry. I figured I should get that out of the way first. I know it's not enough, and since I haven't heard from you -- I'm sorry.

My last comm was -- Fuck. I was so angry when I sent it. That anger carried me for a couple of days until I literally collapsed in my quarters on Saturday, scaring Rickie half to death. I was exhausted. I was dehydrated. I had a high fever again all day but worked anyway. Philip luckily kept it quiet and didn't make me go to medical, as he knew that would be worse for me in my current state. He treated me in my quarters, hooked me up to an IV for twenty four hours and -- Well, I'm sure you'll read the medical reports if you even still care.

I don't really know what to say right now. If you don't get on the charter and aren't at the engagement party -- Well, I would deserve it. I don't even know if you will get this in time and no, it's not a last ditch effort to try to convince you.

I've had a lot of time to think. I've still been 'working' despite not feeling any better. Resting doesn't change anything, so as long as I'm not any worse, Philip is letting me go about my day. The moment I get back to quarters, though, Philip is waiting, or there shortly thereafter with a hypo and that damn tricorder. I swear to God when I'm feeling better, I'm going to ban those damn things from my presence. If you think I'm kidding, then you don't know me very well.

Which brings up something I've been thinking about a lot while I've been staring at the ceiling in my quarters. I know you think you know me well, and you do know me more than anyone, but in some ways you really don't know me at all. Philip pointed out to me last night when we were talking. I'm an asshole, Len. I always have been. I'm not exactly a nice person. It's not like this is news to you, you'd heard the scuttlebutt. You knew what you were getting yourself into -- Well, I hope you did. I know we have both been caught up in -- I don't know, I guess you'd call it the throes of love. The rush. It's easy to be blind, I've heard. Never thought it was possible that I wouldn't be in control of my feelings. But with you -- Fuck Len, I just didn't have a choice. And that probably doesn't sound very good. I don't mean it like that. I hope you understand because I obviously still am a complete failure at this communicating thing.

When I try to express how I'm feeling and you still don't get what I mean to say -- I don't know what I'm supposed to do. There have been so many other things going on. I suppose some of our initial problems got lost in all of that. I don't know. I know we're better than we were or at least I want to believe that. The truth is, I fucking suck at this, Len. I've read 'relationship' books until my eyes glazed over. I've talked and talked to Dr. Rossen and I won't bring up -- Well, just forget the whole disaster with Dr. Elliott. And where has it all gotten me? The same damn place where I can't express myself in a way where you can understand what the hell I really mean.

Philip told me last night that you can't really change who you are and maybe he's right. Maybe I'll always be an abrupt, stoic asshole. He said it's all about adapting your expectations and perceptions. Of course he also told me it's not easy. Hell, he and Allen are having bigger problems than I knew about and they've been together forever. They seem committed to working through them, but fuck -- I'll admit it scares me to hear Philip talking about them separating for a while. Apparently that's what they may 'discuss' while he's earthside. He says they both want different things right now and haven't been able to work out a compromise. He doesn't seem that concerned, and that bothers me too. Apparently they separated early on for almost a year, when they couldn't agree about having kids. I guess that was their issue then. Allen wanted to wait, Philip wanted them sooner rather than later. They compromised and of course they were both thrilled to be parents and have a family. I never even knew any of this as I was in space during their separation. I asked Philip if he still loved Allen and he said of course he did. He said he'd always love him no matter whether they were together or not. I guess for awhile, Philip has wanted to adopt another kid or two and that's what they're arguing about. He seems to be past that now, but now he's planning on staying in space indefinitely. Allen was hoping Philip was done with space after this tour, but coming back on the Exeter with me has just reminded him how much he loves it.

I don't know why I'm telling you this. Maybe because -- Well, if you really can't change who you are, then what happens years down the road when you're fed up with the fact that I'm an asshole? And what happens down the road when you and Jim go off on shore leave together and I simply can't stand that fact anymore? What happens when you can't shut off being a doctor around me and just be Len?

The problem as I see it: Len _is_ a doctor. A stubborn southern doctor. Just like Chris _is_ an asshole egotistical Captain. Both of us, to the core. I've thought many times about your argument that we could never serve together and had half-convinced myself that you were just saying that because of Jim. Now, I can see the truth in your words. It doesn't mean I have to like it.

I feel like shit for what I said in my comms. I could blame it on being sick, I could blame it on a lot of things. The truth is, they were just me, Len. Just me. I was mad at the world and I took it out on the person closest to me -- You.

This is the part where I say I'm sorry again. This is the part where I say that I know you never are going to stop being a doctor. I know that you never are going to leave Jim behind.

This is the part where I say that I love you anyway and that we'll make it work. It's worth it. God, it's worth it, because as frustrated and angry as you make me, I can't imagine life without you. If I was feeling better, I might actually admit -- well, I think you know that it's somewhat a turn-on for me. Exactly how fucked up does that make me, Dr. McCoy?

Wait, don't answer that.

I love you, Len. I'm scared shitless about all of this, but when has that ever stopped me from getting what I want?

I'm sorry, Len. And I'm sorry for all the other times I'm going to screw up too. You deserve better, but fuck I'm glad you fell in love with me anyway.

I'll see you soon. I hope. God, if I've fucked this up. I'm so sorry.

Yours,  
Chris

  
To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Monday 2260.274

Dear Chris:

Damn it, I'm sorry. I was an asshole, okay? I could make excuses -- neutral zone stress, dealing with idiots in sickbay. But that would be a coward's way out. Just -- I'm sorry. I'm no good at this apologizing shit, but I hope you'll forgive me anyway.

My ring's been swirling red and dark gray, and I feel guilty as hell about it. I'm sure mine hasn't shown me in the best of spirits either.

If you want me to do some groveling in person when we see each other, I'll give it my best shot. In fact, the idea of getting on my knees for you is pretty damn appealing. Fuck, Chris, I miss you so much. Even more these past few days when we haven't been writing.

You worry that I'll send you packing because of your moodiness -- Chris, I worry about the same thing. I'm a grumpy bastard on a good day, and when it's not a good day... well, you saw the outcome of that. I don't know why you put up with it, but I'm goddamn grateful that you do. I'm sure it'll happen again, and I can only say that I'm sorry in advance, I'll try not to do it very often, and I'll do whatever I can to make it up to you afterward.

All right, I think that's all I can say about that. But really, Chris, if there's something else I can say or do to make it up to you, let me know, all right? I love you, even when I'm being an idiot. Even when _you're_ being an idiot.

You know, if you don't forgive me I think you'll have Jim as well as the entire medical staff after you because I've been told in no uncertain terms to fix things with you so I'll stop taking out my bad mood on them. Trust me, you do _not_ want an irate Christine Chapel on your case. Well, you've worked with her before, I'm sure you already know that.

Anyway, I'll end there and save the updates for another time. Write back soon, if you can, because I'm going to be on edge until I hear from you.

I'm an idiot, but I'll try to control my idiocy, if you'll still have me. I love you.

Always,  
Len

To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Thursday 2260.277

Dear Len,

I think I felt the weight of the universe come off my shoulders when I got your comm. God, I don't know what I ever did to deserve you -- I love you, Len.

I find it ironic we both wrote to each other at the same time, both of us wondering why we put up with each other. Maybe that's why we do -- no one else would. I don't know if that makes us perfect for each other, or perfectly fucked up. Either way, I'm just so relieved that even with another high fever I feel better than I have in weeks.

It helps knowing that in a couple of days I'll be in your arms again. I should arrive a few hours earlier than expected. So I'll spend some time with the family and then when you arrive I plan on whisking you off to the hotel where the party is at and I'm all yours until we have to make an appearance downstairs.

I hope Jim won't mind being dumped on my family without you. If it's any consolation, it will just be my parents, grandma, and Annie at the house when you two arrive. I think my grandmother is more excited to meet him than to see me. Knowing my mother, she will have Jim all but adopted before the party is over. I think it will be good for Jim though. God knows he can use some family that gives a damn about him.

Philip and I just left the starbase a few hours ago. The crew will have a week of shore leave and they deserve it. It's been a long and uneventful three months. Hopefully the next three months won't be the same. Not that I'm asking for trouble, but other than charting the unexplored sectors, it's generally been a waste of time.

Of course I forgive you. I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't. That said, I'm not going to complain if you want to get down on your knees for me. I may still feel like shit, but fuck I miss your mouth on my cock. Hell, I just miss being with you.

I know you and Philip have been conspiring about my health. I know Philip wants us to beam to Starfleet Medical for some tests on Monday. While it's not exactly how I want to spend our shore leave, Len, if it will help me get over whatever this lingering crap is -- I guess I'll do it. I'm going to leave it up to you. I trust you as a doctor despite how I act sometimes.

I'm going to try to get some sleep now. My head hurts, my chest hurts from coughing so damn much. I'm fucking miserable, Len. I think I'll have Philip sedate me. I want to get as much rest as I can since I know I won't get a lot of sleep when I'm with you. I can't wait to see you and God, I'm so looking forward to going home. I can't wait to show you our ranch. I hope you love it as much as I do.

Thank you for loving me, Len. And putting up with me. I don't deserve you.

Yours always,  
Chris

To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Thursday 2260.277

Dear Chris,

Good god, man, when you get introspective you don't fool around, do you? Whether people can change, whether relationships can last -- those are two of life's big questions, and anyone who says they have the answers to 'em is full of shit.

Maybe we can't change fundamental things about ourselves. We'll both always be stubborn as mules and ornery as goats. But I think we _can_ change, at least to some extent. We can learn to listen to each other, and learn to think more before we fly off the handle. We can learn to -- I don't know, be more patient, with each other and with ourselves. I don't believe in predestination. I don't believe that events or people are set in stone and can't ever change. I can't imagine you would believe that either -- you've based your life on the ideal of making a difference, making things change for the better.

But Philip's got a point about adjusting expectations, and learning to accept each other's flaws. Well, and learning to accept our own flaws. That's probably even harder. Pretty sure it's going to be a life-long process. I wish there were a quick fix, a hypo I could give us to prevent us both from being idiots. But you know as well as I do that that's not possible.

You asked me what we're supposed to do when I realize that you're never going to stop having an ego and wanting to be in control, that I'm never going to be able to turn off being a doctor around you, and that you're never going to completely get over your jealousy of Jim. I guess the answer is that we keep doing what we have been doing. We screw up, then we pick ourselves up and dust ourselves off and keep going. Together, if I have anything to say about it.

I gotta admit, it scares me to hear that Philip and Allen are having serious problems. I suppose that some part of me hoped that if a couple stayed together long enough, they'd iron out all their issues and somehow everything would be sunshine and roses from then on. But even if it's not like that, Chris, there _are_ couples who stay together until the day they die. I want us to be one of those couples. It's not going to be easy, but I don't think it's supposed to be easy. Nothing worthwhile ever is.

And Chris -- you said that in some ways I don't know you that well. I beg to differ, darlin'. I think that in some respects, I know you better than you know yourself. There's so much more to you than that egotistical asshole captain you call yourself. Yeah, that's part of you, but it's not all of you. I can see things in you -- vulnerability, compassion, kindness -- that I don't think you recognize or want to admit to yourself. You'll just have to believe me when I say I see those things and that I _know_ you, soul-deep. Deeper than you could guess or I know how to say. And I can only hope that you know me that deep too, know that there's goodness in me that I can't see myself. Because lord knows, Chris, right now I don't see it.

Tomorrow I'm getting on a ship so we can meet up for the engagement party. I've got half a mind to say fuck the party and just take the time for ourselves. I know we can't do that. But god, Chris, I've got to be with you, I've got to hold you and know that we're all right, that we'll be all right.

I'm not giving up on us. Don't you dare give up either. I love you. I always will.

Yours,  
Len

  



	45. All Mimsy Were the Borogoves (Part 41a of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The start of shore leave.

_**Trek Fic: All Mimsy Were the Borogoves (Pike/McCoy, NC-17)**_  
 **Title:** All Mimsy Were the Borogoves (Part 41a of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Author:** [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17 woo hoo!  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** Around 2900  
 **Summary:** The start of shore leave.  
 **A/N:** I'm sorry I've been MIA. RL is kind of kicking my butt right now, but I'm thinking about you guys and missing you all!  <3

  


Chris stood on the veranda of his parents' house and peered into the distance. Jim and Len would be here any minute, and he was just about crawling out of his skin. It was early yet, the air smelling fresh and new and impossibly sweet -- it was going to be a beautiful day.

He was looking into the morning sun so he shaded his eyes with his hand and squinted at the horizon. Was that dot coming closer? He heard it then, a low buzz that vibrated the air around him. It was a hovercar. His breath caught but he forced himself to stillness, ignoring the way his heart was suddenly pounding.

The car got closer and it was definitely a cab, definitely heading straight towards him. Thank fuck. It had been so goddamn long. Too goddamn long.

The car landed and two men emerged, one fair and one dark, and he was striding towards them, unable to restrain himself for a second longer. He was dimly aware of Jim saying something to him, but he couldn't hear it, couldn't respond right now. He knew his eyes were giving too much away right now, too much feeling, too much intensity, but there was no way he could control it.

Then Len was close enough that he could see Len's eyes and in them was the same look directed at him. Between one breath and another Len was in his arms and Chris was crushing him close, arms tight enough to bruise but Len didn't complain, just buried his head in the crook of Chris's neck and held on in return like he was drowning and only Chris could keep him from being pulled under.

Chris had no sense of time passing, lost as he was in the scent of Len's hair and the solid warmth of his body, pressing against his own. They were both breathing raggedly, their hearts beating wildly as the air warmed around them, whether from the heat of their bodies or the unfurling morning Chris neither knew nor cared.

Eventually their breathing steadied, settling into a synchronized rhythm, the way it always did when they were in each other's arms. Chris buried his fingers in the thick, soft hair at the nape of Len's neck and tugged his head back just far enough for him to cover Len's mouth with his own. Chris's kiss was demanding, and Len gave in easily, giving it all to Chris, not holding anything back. Chris could feel Len's unquestioning surrender, and it eased something in him that he hadn't even realized was tense.

The kiss gentled, and now it was Chris's turn to reassure Len, with soft strokes of his tongue against Len's, tapering off to delicate presses of lips against lips. There was silence for a moment, Chris's fingers caressing the back of Len's neck as their eyes slowly opened and focused on each other.

"Hi," said Len, voice husky and just a little shaky.

Chris felt a rush of satisfaction at the way he could make Len came undone for him, so easily and so fast. Maybe he shouldn't enjoy it so much, the power he had over this man, but right now he couldn't bring himself to care.

He smiled, and he knew there was a hint of smugness in it. "Hi yourself," he said.

Len rolled his eyes, but he couldn't keep the happiness off of his face. "Damn, it's good to see you."

"Been too long," Chris replied, the depth of emotion behind the words revealing his own vulnerability, the power Len had over him. If his voice was raspy, he'd blame it on the lingering cold. Then he cleared his throat. They had an audience, and this wasn't the time for anything so private.

Chris stepped back, and he could feel Len's reluctance, the way Len's body almost swayed toward his before he controlled the reaction and stood up straight, his face settling into its usual slight scowl, with a tinge of pink high in his cheeks revealing his embarrassment at having let go so completely in front of other people.

Chris looked around for Jim, and didn't see him, the hovercar, or even their bags. Just how long had he and Len been wrapped up in each other? Len jerked his head toward the house and Chris turned, seeing Jim already deep in conversation with his mother, two Starfleet-issue duffels at his feet.

"Shit," he said under his breath. "My mom's going to kill me for my lack of manners."

Len chuckled, and it broke the tension. He took Chris's hand in his own. "Well, let's go face the music."

As they approached the house, his mother arched one eyebrow pointedly at him, but her eyes were sparkling. Looked like he was going to get off lightly then, thank god.

She came forward and embraced Len, kissing him on the cheek.

"Len, it's so good to see you again," she said.

"Good to see you too, ma'am," he replied.

" _Willa_ ," she said insistently.

"Yes, ma'am."

His mom laughed. "Well, you'll need that stubborness for dealing with my son. Who, by the way, has not yet formally introduced me to this very handsome young man," she said, looking pointedly at Chris.

Jim grinned, and Len snorted. Chris just sighed. Should've known he wouldn't get away with a lapse of manners like that without comment.

"I apologize, mom. Jim, may I present my mother, Willa Pike? Mom, this is Captain James T. Kirk." His voice was still painfully hoarse, but his mom wouldn't accept that as an excuse for not observing the formalities.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance," Jim said, bowing over her hand and playing it up for all it was worth. Chris and Len looked at each other, rolling their eyes in unison.

His mom smiled and motioned them inside. "Come in, boys. I've got coffee on."

Jim smirked at Chris, clearly amused that all three of them were being lumped into the category of "boys." Chris ignored Jim. No point in reacting to the provocation and getting another scolding from his mother about his poor manners.

He managed to introduce Jim to his father, grandmother, and cousin Annie with relative grace and decorum, hanging onto his patience while Jim turned on the charm and bewitched everyone in the room. Len was making the rounds, too, receiving hugs but Chris could see his smile was beginning to crack at the edges the longer the small talk went on.

Finally Chris took pity on Len -- well, and on himself too -- and eased up next to him, slipped his arm around Len's waist, and made an excuse to lead him away from the small crowd. They found themselves in a small dark hallway in the back of the house. Chris pressed Len up against the wall with his body, leaning in so the full lengths of their torsos were touching. Len was still in his duty uniform, having come with Jim straight from the shipyard to catch a hovercab here. Chris hardly ever got to see him in his science blues, and it surprised him how much of a turn-on it was. Len filled out the uniform well, and it gave him a certain air of authority and gravitas -- not because of the clothes but because of the way he held himself when he was wearing them. He was comfortable and confident in his role as CMO, and it showed in his bearing.

Chris angled his head towards Len and kissed him teasingly, dipping his tongue shallowly into Len's mouth, then pulling away when Len tried to deepen the kiss. Finally Len lost patience and grabbed the back of Chris's head, pulling him in with a growl. Chris laughed into the kiss, and it felt so damn good. The tension of the time apart and the harsh words they'd exchanged didn't evaporate, but it did begin to lighten, and Chris finally relaxed for the first time in weeks.

They kissed again, and again, Len's hands now grasping the back of his t-shirt, blunt nails digging in as he tried to pull Chris impossibly closer.

The sound of a throat clearing broke over them and Chris forced himself to pull back with a reluctant groan. He turned his head to see Jim grinning at them unrepentantly.

"Hey guys, get a room."

Len rolled his eyes.

"No, I mean really. Your mom says to get your butts out of here and over to the hotel room you booked, before the cook sees you and has a heart attack from the shock. She says she'll give you a pass this time, but you both better be on your best behavior at the party or there will be dire consequences." He looked absolutely delighted to be the bearer of this warning.

Len opened his mouth, presumably to snark at Jim, but Chris swiftly covered Len's mouth with his hand and rasped, "Understood. We'll see you at the party tonight."

Then he tugged Len toward the back door so they wouldn't have to make their goodbyes to his well-meaning but very talkative family, a process that could take half an hour, easily. He heard Jim laughing behind them and out of the corner of his eye saw Len raise a middle finger over his shoulder, but now that Len had figured out they were going to escape, he was matching Chris stride for stride.

They barely spoke on the drive over to the hotel, but Len's fingers were twitching where they rested on his thighs and Chris could feel his intense gaze on the side of his face for the entire trip.

They reached the hotel and Chris tossed the keys to a valet and hustled Len into the lobby, practically vibrating with impatience as a clerk checked them in. As soon as they got into the elevator, Len turned toward him, but Chris cut his eyes at the corner where a blinking red light indicated a camera, and Len nodded his understanding.

As soon as the hotel room door closed behind them, though, all bets were off. He was tearing at Len's uniform, cursing the rip-resistant material. Len was fumbling with the button of Chris's pants, whining in frustration when he couldn't get it to open immediately.

"Shhh, let me," Chris soothed. Len dropped his arms, allowing Chris to manipulate his limbs until he was stripped naked, nipples already pebbled and his cock flushed and hard. In a matter of seconds, Chris peeled his own clothes off and pushed Len toward the bed. Len went willingly, and he lay down, propping himself on his elbows to watch Chris bend over and retrieve the tube of lubricant he'd stashed in his pants pocket.

"Chris, I - " Len began, but Chris put a finger on Len's lips to forestall him.

"Not now," he said. "We'll talk later. We've got all day. Right now I've got to fuck you."

Len's eyes heated at his words and he nodded, spreading his legs wide. It was all the invitation Chris needed, and he knelt between Len's legs, preparing him as quickly as possible, and with less care than he usually took. But he couldn't wait another second.

He lined up and pushed in, no finesse or teasing, just a slow forceful slide that had both of them moaning. Chris gritted his teeth and felt sweat breaking out over his whole body. It was an effort not to explode as soon as he was fully sheathed, his balls nudging up against Len's ass.

"I'll take my time later, but right now, I've gotta - "

"Yeah, Chris, do it," Len interrupted.

Chris hitched Len's legs up over his shoulders and leaned in until Len was bent practically in half. The position caused him to tighten around Chris and Chris heard himself give a broken cry before he could stop it from escaping.

Len's eyes flared in response, with something that looked like the same sense of pride Chris had felt earlier at the knowledge of how he affected Len.

He pulled out as far as he could bear to, which wasn't much more than halfway. Then he slammed back in, as hard as he could. Len gave a slightly pained grunt but hissed, " _Yes,_ again, Chris," and so Chris did it again.

He lost himself in the rhythm, then, in the feel of Len's ass clenched tight around his cock, the way their sweat mingled as their skin slid together, Len's short nails pressing insistently into the skin of his shoulders. Len's head was thrown back now, the long elegant line of his throat glistening in the sunlight coming through the room's huge windows, but as beautiful as the sight was, it wasn't what Chris wanted to see.

"Look at me, Len," he gritted, not letting up on the pace he'd set. Len obeyed and his eyes were wild, his mouth slightly open and small gasps were falling from his lips. _This,_ this was what he'd needed, after all the lonely weeks apart. He knew his own eyes were equally turbulent and he didn't try to hide it, didn't try to hide from Len. They were long past the need to hide from each other.

He didn't bend down to kiss Len, didn't want to break eye contact long enough for that. His strokes were almost vicious now, his hips hitting Len's ass on every stroke hard enough to leave bruises.

"Touch yourself now," he commanded, and Len's hand was on his own cock even before he finished the sentence. Chris would pay attention to that gorgeous cock himself later, would lavish attention on it until Len was babbling in pleasure, but right now he just needed to claim Len, make them both remember how it was between them, this connection that was the strongest thing he'd ever felt in his life.

He was losing his rhythm now, sweat dripping down his forehead and into his own eyes, falling from his face to splash onto Len, Chris's ability to focus slipping as he spiraled ever-closer to completion.

"Gonna - " he gasped out.

"Fuck, Chris, yeah," Len said, jerking himself hard and fast.

For just a few more seconds, Chris heard their panting breaths, the sound of his balls slapping against Len's ass, the sound of Len's hand fisting his own cock, and then all he heard was a roaring in his ears as he drove his hips forward one last time, every muscle spasming uncontrollably as he emptied himself deep inside of Len, his cock pulsing, the orgasm going on and on, harder and longer than any he'd felt in a long time.

Len's eyes had stayed locked with his through all of this and then suddenly they squeezed shut and he was coming as well, his face contorted as he spurted thick and heavy between them.

Chris released Len's legs and then sank down until he was resting his full body weight against Len's chest. Len's legs wrapped around his back, his hands still gripping Chris's shoulders, and they shuddered together for several minutes, trying to find some semblance of calm.

Finally Len shoved weakly at his shoulder and Chris took the hint, rolling to the side, pulling Len into his arms so that Len's head was resting against his shoulder.

Len yawned widely and loudly. "Sorry," he said. "Didn't sleep too well on the trip here."

Chris ran his fingers over Len's skin slowly, soothingly. Fuck, he'd missed this, just being able to touch Len. "It's okay, Len," he said. "Why don't you sleep for a little. You're going to need all your energy for later."

"You mean for the party?"

"Well, that too," Chris said. "But I was actually talking about round two. And three. And - "

"Woah, Chris, you're a bit ambitious, aren't you?"

"We'll see," he said, smiling. "But I'm not letting you out of this room until it's time to go down for the party. Right now I just want to hold you, and look at you. So get some rest."

Len opened his mouth to respond but it turned into another yawn. Chris chuckled softly.

"Yeah, yeah, all right," Len grumbled. He burrowed a little more firmly against Chris's body, and Chris willingly pulled him closer. Len's breathing slowed and evened out, sleep claiming him quickly. Chris stroked gently over his skin, ran his fingers through Len's soft hair. He didn't know how he was going to give this up when shore leave was over.

Time enough to think about that later. For now, they had a room to themselves and an entire day with nowhere to be. He felt himself being lulled by the rhythm of Len's heartbeat, and he let go, let it tug him down into sleep, wrapped up in warmth that had nothing to do with the morning sun, climbing steadily higher in the Florida sky.

  



	46. Their Coats Were Brushed, Their Faces Washed (Part 42 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The correspondence and personal journals of Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy.

_**Trek Fic: Their Coats Were Brushed, Their Faces Washed (Pike/McCoy, NC-17)**_  
 **Title:** Their Coats Were Brushed, Their Faces Washed (Part 42 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Authors:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** Around 4400  
 **Summary:** The correspondence and personal journals of Christopher Pike and Leonard McCoy.  
 **A/N:** From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) : This chapter is the answer to life, the universe and everything. Just don't ask me what the question is. From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/): I have a job interview tomorrow (Tuesday), my first interview in over ten years and first time possibly back to work in 8. HOLD ME.

  


**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike**

_Sunday 2260.280_

Home sweet home. As much I love San Francisco, and even space, Mojave will always home to me. And being here with Len -- There are just no words.

We left the engagement party at about 2300. The party was still in full swing, but I was tired and coughing, had a fever and frankly, I'd had enough. We were there promptly at 1900 and five hours were more than enough time to appease my mother.

I sound like I'm ungrateful, and really I'm not. The party wasn't as bad as I expected it to be. Len's eyes got a little wide when we came downstairs, but I just held his hand tighter and into the fray we went. I have to admit that having whatever this bug is came in handy at times. I could just cough and point to my throat and act like I was losing my voice more than I actually was and excuse myself away pretty easily.

I would venture to guess there were about a thousand people there. Since there were so many dignitaries and even royalty, security was extremely tight. Only two members of the press were authorized. Of course that didn't stop the throngs of reporters and paparazzi outside the hotel. Somehow they got word that Len and I had checked in early. At one point later in the day there was even a hover-copter outside the balcony of our room.

Luckily, the window controls were already set to private or there would have been some very pornographic pictures hitting the newsnets shortly after. I was standing at the end of the bed literally buried in Len's ass when they hovered at our window. He was on his hands and knees and I was fucking him hard from behind. I'll admit, it got me a little hot, thinking they might be getting pictures, and when I said as much to Len, asked him if he liked that people might be watching -- taking holos -- Obviously it fed into his exhibitionist kink because, fuck, he came apart, spurting all over the bed without me even touching his cock. Hottest thing I've ever seen.

Truthfully, I'm surprised we weren't walking funny when we went downstairs. Other than a short nap when we first arrived, and later in the afternoon when Jim brought our bags over, we pretty much sucked or fucked each other as soon as we were hard again. I certainly made up for my dry spell, and while I got a little dizzy and winded at times, it was worth it. I have to admit, I was a little worried since I hadn't -- Well, since I've had pretty much no sex drive the last few weeks. I was more than relieved that it obviously wasn't a problem from the moment I saw him get out of the hovercab. Fuck, how that man turns me on.

It's early morning here on the ranch, and Len is still sleeping. We arrived just before midnight after the party and went right to bed. I was exhausted and so damn relieved and happy to be with Len that we just dropped the bags in the entryway, and I pulled him down the long hallway to my bedroom. We stripped while he chewed me out about taking care of myself and how I shouldn't have been at the party with my fever or exerted myself as much as I had today. I swear if I hadn't been so tired I would have pushed him down on his knees and shut him up by sticking my cock in his mouth. I knew I would have passed out though, and that would have made his tirade worse. So I simply got in bed, and let him give me a couple hypos. I was asleep before I even got to really enjoy having him in my bed for the first time. I will definitely make up for that tonight.

This morning, after I give him the grand tour of the house and property, I'm taking him over so we can meet Nora. Then I figure I'll show him around town, and we can have lunch at my favorite greasy diner. He can grouse at me about the big juicy bacon cheeseburger I'm going to have like he does with Jim. After that, other than going to see Nora every day, I think we'll be staying in until we have to leave Wednesday morning.

I probably should talk more about the engagement party, but in some ways it was just a blur. The grand ballroom at the hotel was beautiful. I have to hand it to my mother, everything is always first rate. It was good to see extended members of my family again, especially several from down under and offworld who weren't able to make my parents' anniversary celebration. I enjoyed catching up, and introducing Len to everyone. I also think half the Admirality were there, and it was good to see Richard and his wife. I was worried that some of them might corner Jim, but my father had obviously clued the women in my family in on which ones would be a problem. I saw them, even aunts and great aunts, running interference for him all night. That was a relief, but I also felt bad that it hadn't occured to me beforehand to protect him like that. The kid looks tired, but Len said Jim hadn't been able to sleep at all during the twenty-two hours it took them to get to earth. Explains why Len was so tired too.

Dancing with Len -- I know this is going to sound sappy, but it was like I'd really never danced with anyone before. I know we danced at the Starfleet ball and at my parents' anniversary party, but this was different. I just felt so much love for him with the orchestra playing. Glancing over at my mom, and seeing her smile, and heck even seeing Jim smiling watching us -- Damn, I'm getting choked up here. Must be the cold.

Jim and my family seemed to really hit it off. I don't think I've ever seen him smile so much as when he was dancing with my grandmother. I knew those two would get a long famously. I think he was a little surprised to be seated at the table with us and my immediate family. He didn't eat a lot, or drink for that matter. Even my grandmother was after him about eating more. I did see him disappear with the Risian Ambassador for awhile and come back looking thouroughly fucked. I'm just glad he had a good time, although I didn't get to spend time talking with him like I'd hoped.

Well, I think I'm going to go put coffee on for Len and see what Annie has stocked the fridge with for breakfast. Knowing her, she probably has something already cooked that we just need to heat up.

Now, if I could just figure out how to slow time down. I have a feeling these three days are going to go way too fast.

 **To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
** From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
Date sent: Sunday 2260.280 

Dear Chris,

I'm sorry we didn't get to talk much the short time I was on earth. While I knew that you and Bones were going to take off to the hotel after we arrived, I didn't think it would be so soon. Not that I blame you, and if it was anyone else, I'm sure I'd have a sexual innuendo to throw your way. But honestly, the sight of you with your tongue stuck down Bones' throat in the hallway is already giving me nightmares. Thanks a lot. Then I figured we'd have some time at the party to talk. Thought you'd want to get out of there for awhile and we could find a quiet spot outside. Holy shit though, old man, that was some craziness at that party. I thought the paparazzi were bad following me around last shore leave, but it was unbelievable how many were outside the hotel and trying to get inside. Dude, they were relentless. They kept the security staff busy, that's for sure.

I really enjoyed meeting your family. Your mother is... well, she's amazing. I can't believe she went to so much trouble to have my favorite meal prepared at lunch. I even have leftovers she had sealed up for me to take back to the Enterprise. You were a lucky kid growing up and your father is a very, very lucky man. I enjoyed the afternoon I spent with them immensely.

Speaking of your father... Man, he has some opinions, doesn't he? I respect that. It was good practice for me debating with him. He brought up a lot of good points about allowing my captaincy, both for and against. He didn't mince words, but I felt like I won him over by the end. He made a point of coming and finding me before he left the party. That made me feel good.

Your grandmother is a riot! She wore me out on the dance floor! I think she introduced me to every single person at that party that she wasn't trying to keep me away from. How the hell does she remember everyone at her age? Shit. She's incredible. She was just so amazingly nice to me. All of your family was. Annie is so generous and not to mention gorgeous. I'l confess that I was pretty nervous about attending. I didn't think I'd really know anyone other than you and Bones. I didn't know Philip and Allen would be there so that was nice. I knew there would be a lot of brass and diplomats and shit your family is good at diversion. Do the women in your family plan their tactics? Because, man, they should be teaching a class at The Academy at how well they kept the asshats away from me. Instead of worrying about that, I was able to just enjoy myself.

The party rocked and your mom certainly goes all out. After meeting your mother and how she spoiled me at their house, I shouldn't have been surprised. Thank you for allowing me to come, Chris. I know it probably wasn't easy for you, but it meant a lot to Bones... It meant a lot to me too. You two look happy. I will admit I got a bit misty eyed at a couple points in the evening. Excuse me for getting all mushy here, but seeing you two dance, and how you looked at each other across the room when you were apart mingling... Well, I don't look at them often, but I have a few holos of my parents dancing, some at formal functions, some just around our old farmhouse. Everyone always told me how in love they were. I could see that in those holos, and I could see it watching you and Bones. Shit, I'm becoming... Hell, one of those wimps that cry at Hallmark commercials. I blame you both.

I probably should be responding to your comm now, but I honestly don't know what else to say. I guess we should just keep talking to each other in comms like we have been. As uncomfortable as we both feel, it's probably better that we didn't get the opportunity to talk in person last night.

I'm doing okay, Chris. There are times that I'm not, but Bones always seems to know, and he just has his way of... I don't know how to explain it. Actually, I could explain it, but at times I feel like I shouldn't. That those moments only belong to me and Bones. I'm sure you understand what I mean... And fuck, I'm sure this isn't helping with your jealousy shit. But you told me last night, for the few minutes we did get to talk... You looked me right in my eyes and made me promise not to lie or hide anything from you just because I thought you wouldn't like it. I don't know. It might take me awhile to believe that, Chris. I hope you can understand.

Thanks again for allowing me to come. For telling me that I'm part of your family, and thanks to your family especially for making me feel like I truly am.

Gonna try to get some sleep before I get back to Enterprise. Who knows what Spock has done with her while I've been gone. I hope you and Bones enjoy your time together. Feel better, old man. I love you.

Jim

 **To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Philip Boyce (pboyce@starfleet.gov)  
Date sent: Sunday 2260.280 

Dear Len,

I know you told me at the party to call you right after my meeting at Starfleet this morning, but I didn't want to disturb you and Chris.

I'm attaching the recording of the discussion I just had with my immunologist contacts at Starfleet Medical for your review. At this point, I think I have to agree with them that we need to start weaning Chris off the immuno-suppressant drug regimen. I think they are doing him more harm than good. I know you would have liked to keep him on them longer, since your procedure for the Centaurian slugs' eradication was a new and untested protocol. But I really don't think we have a choice anymore considering he can't even fight off a common cold now. If he were to contract something worse - Well, I don't think I need to tell you how serious that would be. Let me know what you think, and we can consult on a time frame.

I hope I'm not overstepping my bounds here, but may I make a suggestion to you? I've known Chris and been around his family the entire time I've known him. I don't know how much time you've spent with Willa or Kathleen around him, or how they cater to his every whim, but let me just say this: Baby him a little, Len. He tries so hard to be the tough stoic type, and he may complain like crazy, but I have a hunch it will help with the problems you two have been having. I know he's scared about his health even though he won't admit it. We both know he's going to be fine, but Chris doesn't. This entire medical crisis since Narada has rattled him to his core. You know that as well as I do I'm sure, and I certainly know he's not an easy man to deal with. I also think you're the only person other than Willa and Kathleen that could get away with it and live to tell about it. I think he _needs_ it right now. Especially from _you_.

Just my opinion of course from long-time observation, seeing him with Willa and Kathleen. Feel free to ignore me. I can be a meddling old man at times.

Take care and enjoy your time together. Give me a call anytime.

Sincerely,  
Philip

 **To: Philip Boyce (pboyce@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Date sent: Sunday 2260.280

Dear Philip,

Thanks for your comm. I think you're right about the immuno-suppressants. We've got to stop them. Damn it. It's not ideal, but then nothing about Chris's health is ideal since the Narada. Obviously, though, the drugs are doing more harm than good now, so I agree with you, it's time to wean him off. I can consult with you about a schedule, or I can leave it in your capable hands, since you see him more regularly than I do and probably have a better feel for what dose adjustments he can handle and at what intervals.

And... thanks for the advice about dealing with Chris. I'm sure you know that patience and a good bedside manner aren't often noted among my more outstanding qualities as a doctor. Sometimes it's hard to remember that Chris isn't just another patient. Well, I mean, not that I could ever forget that, but you know what I mean. It's hard to remember to act like his lover, not just his doctor.

But you're right, he obviously does need to be pampered a little, and it's equally obvious that he'd never ask for any such thing. Hell, it would probably never even occur to him. In fact, I'm guessing I may have a fight on my hands when I try it. But if there's one arena where I'm a match for Chris, it's stubbornness. So consider it done, all right?

I hope all's well with you and Allen and the kids. Looking forward to the next time we have a chance to get together.

Thanks,  
Len

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**

_Date: Monday 2260.281_

I think I just got a slap upside the head from Philip Boyce. A gentle one, but a slap nonetheless. Hell, I probably deserved it. He basically told me to quit taking the "tough love" approach and ease up on Chris. He's known Chris for a lot longer than I have, so I trust his opinion. Plus, well, it's obvious that my usual way of dealing with recalcitrant patients doesn't work so well with Chris, so I guess it was time to try something different anyway.

So ever since I got his comm yesterday, I've been trying to baby Chris a little. Pamper him. From the looks Chris has been giving me, I'm pretty sure he thinks I've been replaced by an alien shapeshifter or something. Am I usually _that_ much of a hard-ass that a little gentleness takes him so off guard? Shit, that's not a very pleasant thought.

Well, what's done is done and there's no changing it. Just got to do better from here on out -- if Chris will let me, that is. You'd think I was torturing him, the way he carries on if I try to do something nice for him. Last night I tried to draw him a bath and give him a backrub, and he kept waving me away, saying something about how he wasn't infirm and didn't need to be treated like an old man. I tried to explain that I just wanted to make him feel good but he was having none of it. It was about to erupt in a fight so finally I just stalked away, went outside so I could take a few deep breaths and calm down.

When I got back, we both apologized, but he looked still kind of... I don't know, suspicious, I guess, of what I was doing. So I backed off and let him fuck me through the mattress -- not that that was a hardship, mind -- and then he seemed to feel a bit better, having re-asserted his manly dominance or some crap. It left him winded, though. I could see he expected me to rip into him for overdoing it, but I just kept my mouth shut, curled up with him, and lay there in his arms. Have to admit, the way he relaxed and just held me, stroking my hair while his pulse slowed down to normal -- well, it was much more pleasant than having an argument about whether he was pushing himself too hard.

This morning I made him breakfast in bed, and he didn't make a peep, although he did glare at me a little. But I could tell he liked it, even if he didn't want to admit it. Then I sucked his brains out through his dick, and he insisted on returning the favor.

After that, we got showered and dressed so we could go over and see Nora again. I met her for the first time yesterday, and it was a kick. She's a beauty, and full of spirit. She's obviously got everyone at the stable, human and animal, wrapped around her -- well, little finger isn't the right word. Hoof? Whatever. She knows it, too. She's downright pleased with herself. Reminds me a little of Jim, actually, not that I'd ever tell Chris or Jim that. They'd both be pissed, for totally different reasons.

The Mojave ranch is different than I expected, somehow. Less barren, prettier. Don't get me wrong -- the surrounding desert is as stark as anything I've ever seen, and can compare with alien landscapes for sheer weirdness, but Chris's property is irrigated, and even though I wouldn't exactly call it lush, it's beautiful, with walking trails and lots of vegetation that obviously wouldn't grow without human intervention.

The weather isn't as brutal as I expected, either. Well, Chris tells me that's because October is one of the most pleasant months here, but still, it's a nice surprise.

And the house itself is beautiful. It's very _Chris,_ in a way that nowhere else I've been with him has been. Moreso than his apartment in San Francisco, for sure. This feels like it's his home, without question. There's a lot of bare cedar wood planking on the interior and exterior, and the scent of it is just incredible. The furniture isn't fancy or anything, just plain and comfortable. And the bedroom is amazing, with a huge skylight in the ceiling, giving us an unbelievable view of the stars when we're lying in bed at night. It's quiet here -- it feels like there's no one around for hundreds of miles, even though there's a town only a short hovercar trip away.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I could really get to love this place. I know he's planning on leaving it to Annie, though, and it's her home, so I probably shouldn't get too attached. It's hard, though -- it's like the house is a physical representation of everything that I love about Chris. It's solid, strong, not fancy or fussy, just _there_ , withstanding the elements, giving shelter I know I can depend on.

Guess in the end, it doesn't matter if I have that in a building, as long as I've got it in him.

And on that ridiculously sappy note, I'm going to end this and go track down that wayward fiance of mine so I can actually spend time with him while we're on the same planet.

 **To: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date sent: Monday 2260.281

Dear Jim,

Son, I want to apologize that I didn't make time to talk to you at my parents' house or at the party. I should have. I planned on it, I honestly meant to, but well -- I don't know if Len told you -- I'm sure he did, but we had a rough couple of weeks before the party and I was being selfish and needed to be with him. I still should have made time though, and I'm sorry.

I'm glad you had a good time. I meant what I said -- You _are_ family as far as I'm concerned. I'm pretty sure you could tell that was true for my family too. They have always known you mean a lot to me, and they know how important to Len you are too. A family is something you will _never_ lack no matter what stupid things I do. Remember that. Enough said.

I also don't want you to censor yourself about Len. I do understand that you have your doubts and they are not unfounded considering what an idiot I've been. I'm not going to pretend that when you say things, that it doesn't bother me. That is _not_ your problem, or Len's problem for that matter. It's mine and I need to learn to deal with it. I'm not blind, Jim. I know there has always been some -- I don't know, connection isn't really the right word, between you and Len. It's different than the one I have with him, and I often wonder if -- Well, Len and I, as you know, have a bit of a communication issue at times. Something you and Len have never had a problem with. I envy that.

Moving on, I hope your trip back to Enterprise was better than your trip home. If it's any consolation, I never sleep well when I've left my ship either. The only reason I got any rest is Philip sedated me half the trip. Not that I like that, but I'm learning it beats the alternative at times. I was well rested and not a complete zombie at the party like I probably would have been otherwise.

Yesterday we went and met the horse I got Len for his birthday. I know Len has shown you the holos, but they don't do her justice. Nora's really a beauty and she certainly takes after her owner in sheer stubbornness. She's already got Len absolutely besotted. He was making fun of Annie for being so attached at the party, but now the shoe is on the other foot. I think if he could, he'd take her back to the Enterprise with him. We spent a couple hours with her and then I literally had to drag him away to lunch. Not exactly good for my ego that I've been seemingly replaced by a two-month-old filly.

Speaking of Len, I think I just heard the door open and close. He went out for a run before lunch. I'm supposed to be napping, but couldn't really sleep. I'd better go see what rabbit food he's probably making me for lunch. I guess I'll let him have his way since he didn't really grouse at the bacon cheeseburger I had yesterday. I could tell he wanted to. He even opened his mouth and I was waiting for the lecture, but he grabbed his coffee and took a long swig. Actually, he's been acting a bit strange since yesterday morning, now that I think about it. Well, I'll just let it go for now. If he gets any weirder, though, I might comm Philip to come and give him a physical.

Take care of yourself, son, and stay safe.

Love,  
Chris

  



	47. And the Mome Raths Outgrabe (Part 42a of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of shore leave at Chris's ranch in Mojave. (A "real-time" interlude.)

_**Trek Fic: And the Mome Raths Outgrabe (Pike/McCoy, NC-17) TTOMT Part 42a**_  
 **Title:** And the Mome Raths Outgrabe (Part 42a of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Author:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17 woo hoo!  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** Around 7000  
 **Summary:** The end of shore leave at Chris's ranch in Mojave. (A "real-time" interlude.)  
 **A/N:** from [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) : Oh god we're so sorry we've been gone so long. Please don't kill us. From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) You can thank Sky for the porn insertion, pun intended :P That's all that's been holding up this chapter for um, well, we won't say how long. /porn fail From both of us: We promise on our Pike/McCoy, Jim/Bones love that we won't leave you hanging this long again.

  


Monday 2260.281 (afternoon)

Chris yawned as he wandered quietly into the kitchen, stopping and leaning against the half wall that separated his open kitchen and family room. Len was leaning into the fridge, opening containers and packages, tossing ingredients for lunch onto the center island behind him.

"Good run?" Chris asked, crossing his arms across his chest. Len startled, hitting his head on the edge as he stood.

"Dammit Chris! Are you trying to kill me?" Len growled, rubbing the top of his head. "You're worse than Jim sneakin' up on me." He turned and glared at Chris, who couldn't help but grin at his cantankerous fiancé, watching as he reached in and grabbed the bread, tossing it onto the counter with more force than he should have. It promptly slid off and fell onto the floor on the other side.

Chris walked tiredly over to the island, bending over and picking up the bread as Len continued glaring. "I think the bread is an innocent victim here, Len, or did it assault you too?" Chris smirked as he sat down on a stool.

"You're lucky I didn't throw it at your head," he growled. "Ask Jim how many objects I've thrown at him before." He took the bread back and started making sandwiches.

"Is that a hint that I should make sure I don't have vases around from the Ming and Qing dynasties anymore?" This earned him a raised eyebrow from Leonard.

"Probably wouldn't be wise," Len said, as he ripped lettuce. Chris suddenly felt sorry for that lettuce the way Len was shredding it.

"Something wrong, Len?" Chris asked cautiously.

"You didn't get a bit of sleep the hour I was gone, did you?" Len scowled. Chris suspected he already knew the answer.

"Not for lack of trying," Chris replied, the last two words almost unrecognizable. He cleared his throat as Len handed him a bottle of water. "Thanks." After he took a few swigs, he continued. "I gave up after twenty minutes and wrote Jim back."

"I meant to tell you..." Len hesitated a moment before continuing, putting down the knife he was spreading the mayonnaise with. "Dammit." He rubbed his hand across his mouth. "Your family. How accepting they were of Jim. I don't know what to say, Chris. That meant a lot to him." He paused and took a deep breath. "Meant a lot to me too. Thanks."

Chris looked at his fiancé and could see the emotion swirling in his eyes.

"I wish I could say that it was all me, but my mother is the one that you should really be thanking," Chris admitted. "Contrary to what you and Jim think about me at times when I'm being an idiot, I've actually talked to my mom a lot about Jim since I found him in Iowa. Have asked her advice from time to time. Throw in a mother's intuition and she knew exactly what he needed, and just picked my brain on what they could do for him."

"Still," Len said, finishing up Chris's sandwich and pushing the plate across the island, not meeting his eyes. "It's exactly what he needed right now, to get him through..." He swallowed hard and looked up. "Thanks."

"Look," Chris took a bite of his roast beef sandwich before continuing. "I know you're the one who's always telling me he's going to be fine, that he's okay, but I can see through your stubborn bullshit how worried you've been. How worried you _are_ about him." He watched Len cut his sandwich in half, taking a bite. "I feel like an ass because I know you feel like you can't talk about him around me. I know you _and_ Jim both censor yourselves. I don't blame either of you. I don't like it, but I understand."

"Chris..."

"No, Len," he interrupted. "Let me finish." He ran his hand through his hair and took a deep breath. "I told Jim at the party and I'm telling you now, I want that to stop. It's not fair, especially to you. I've been selfish and I need to figure out a way to control my irrational jealousy. You two tiptoeing around me like you're walking through a minefield..." He stopped, his mouth closing, head dropping. He shook his head. "I want you to talk to me. I know it's not your nature to burden others with your problems, but Len, one thing that bothers me is that you do that, and fairly easily, with Jim."

"That's not true..."

He held his hand up and gave Len an 'are you kidding me?' look. "When I said fairly easily, I meant Jim doesn't have to enact some kind of Klingon torture ritual to get you to spill what's bothering you. I know you two sit in each other's quarters and have a few drinks..." He sighed, placing his palms flat on the counter. "I realize that if we were together all the time, or more than we are now, we'd have our own rituals... This would be easier. And I also know that it's not easy for either of us. I've always handled things on my own. _Always_. I have to remind myself that I don't have to do that anymore, and I want to believe that writing back and forth to each other... Of course we share a lot."

"We do," Len nodded, listening quietly while he ate.

"We share more than when we're together like this," he gestured back and forth. "I guess what I'm saying, badly as always, is I _want_ to be the one you come to. I want to be the one you can talk to like that, and I know that I don't make it easy. At all. And I'm not saying that I want you to stop confiding in Jim..."

"You just want me to confide in you too," Len finished, nodding.

"I think, and I can't believe I'm saying this," he smiled wryly, "That we get so caught up in the fact that we're together and those emotions and the physical part that we miss..."

"I get it," Len sighed, dropping his head down. "I do." He leaned forward on the counter. "Look, finish your sandwich. Drink all that water. I'm going to take a quick shower and change and then we're going to _both_ get some rest if I have to goddamn sedate you, and then, maybe, depending on how you're feeling, after dinner we can take a long walk and talk about the other stuff." He looked pointedly at Chris.

"Is that a hint that we should talk about some of the things we said to each other?" Chris sighed, wishing he could forget those comms they'd sent.

"It wasn't my intent, but I think as much as we both would like to pretend nothing happened, and just fuck each other senseless, we can't keep doing that."

"No, we can't." Chris put his elbows on the counter, leaning heavily on them.

Len ran his hand through his hair. "I know you aren't feeling well, and I can tell from looking at you that you still have a fever."

"I'm sick. I'm not depressed, Len, despite your insistence." Chris said firmly, defiantly.

"I know," he admitted. "I can see that now that I'm with you, and I'm sorry I was harping on that so much. It's not easy for me to know that you're sufferin' and not be able to help you. I wanted it to be that simple so..."

"I can understand that, but Len..."

"No, wait, now you need to let me finish," Len interrupted and sighed. His knuckles were white, holding onto the edge of the counter. "I don't know why I can't stop being a doctor around you. I know you aren't going to like this, but I'm just trying to be honest, not censor, like you said. I can do that with Jim most of the time, but for some reason, I can't seem to shut that off with you. I'm pretty sure it has to do with the fact that I treated you after the Narada, and have been part of your medical team ever since. I got to know you because of your medical problems. It's been part of us from the beginning. Me worryin' and trying to figure out a way to keep you alive or make you well."

Chris stood up and walked around the island. He pried one of Len's hands off the counter, threading their hands together. Len turned to face him, still gripping the counter with the other hand.

"I look at you right now, and all I see is that the man I love is sick and frustrated and I feel like I've failed you just like my fa--"

"Len..." Chris interrupted, moving his other hand up to Len's cheek, cupping it. "You _saved_ me. Twice. Right after the Narada, and with the procedure you invented to rid me of the last remnants of that damn bug."

"But..."

"No buts," he said, shaking his head. "We both need to work on this, Len. If I'm going to have permanent problems stemming from all of this, I'm going to have to learn to deal with it instead of being - well, frankly I've probably been a whiny baby about it."

Len smiled. "Maybe, but I think you're entitled." He leaned forward and placed a firm kiss on Chris's lips. "I haven't exactly been..." He kissed him again. "I'm told my bedside manners aren't entirely sympathetic."

"No!" Chris gasped mockingly, and then grinned slyly. "I happen to like your manners in bed."

"You're incorrigible," Len grinned, slapping him playfully on the ass. "Eat your sandwich. I'm going to shower. I'll meet you in the bedroom, to _sleep_." He gave him a quick kiss and left.

Chris smiled, sitting back down in his chair. He did as he was told. He ate his sandwich, drank his water, and tried not to think about the talk they'd be having later.

***

The air was crisp, but not too cold on this early October night. The sky was clear, the stars visible in the desert sky. Chris had his favorite Indian throw over one arm, a bag over his shoulder, and was grasping Len's hand in his other. They walked along the gravel path out past the barn and the riding ring. Chris hadn't brought Len out here yet, but figured this was the perfect opportunity.

Chris was feeling better. Not great, but better. He'd been able to sleep for four hours, curled up with Len. He woke to find Len running his hand through his hair and reading a PADD. He feigned sleep for a few minutes longer just to enjoy the moment.

They warmed up one of the meals Annie had put in the freezer for them, eggplant lasagna. Len sliced up an Italian loaf and made garlic bread while Chris tossed a salad, and a bottle of pinot noir rounded out their perfect meal. Their conversation had been light. Mostly about the house and a few stories Chris retold about his childhood.

Chris smiled, remembering the look on Len's face when he explained during dinner that it was never his intention to give Annie the Mojave homestead if he had a family of his own. It was only set up that way in case something happened to him and he had no one else to inherit it. He wanted it to stay in the family. He'd told Len that now included him, and that Annie knew that. He'd assured Len that Annie may love the ranch, but she stayed in Mojave more as a favor to Chris than anything. The fact that Len was growing to love the desert and the ranch as much as he did made Chris love him even more.

"You're awfully quiet, darlin'," Len said, snapping Chris from his thoughts. "Feeling okay?"

"I'm fine, Len," Chris smiled, squeezing Len's hand. "Just thinking about dinner. And things." Chris watched as Len eyed him skeptically. He nodded, and Chris watched as Len bit at his bottom lip nervously. He stopped and put his hands on Len's upper arms, concerned. "What's wrong, Len?"

"What?" Len asked, surprised. "Nothing's wrong." Chris gave him a look. "Oh hell, Chris. Don't give me _that_ look."

"Then tell me what's got you so nervous that you're gnawing at your bottom lip," Chris stated, squeezing his arms.

"Dammit Chris!" Len cursed, pulling back from Chris. He took a couple of steps back running his hand his hair and blowing out a deep breath. "Nothing's wrong. I just might be a little nervous about the talk we need to have."

"And you think I'm not?" Chris asked.

"Not when you have on your Captain mask," Len stated frustrated. "Of course you could be on your way to face a Klingon firing squad and you'd still be cool and calm."

"Klingons prefer to kill with Bat'leths, not firing squads," Chris retorted, a sly grin forming.

Now it was Len's turn to give him _that_ look, along with the eyebrow and it was all Chris could do not to chuckle.

"Honestly, I'd rather deal with a Klingon than _talk_ sometimes."

"I-I just..." Len paused. "Oh hell, Chris, I just don't want to fight with you when we have so little time together." He walked around in a little circle before turning back to Chris. "And I'm sure I'm going to say something stupid or god dammit, Chris, I said some stupid things and overreacted as usual and I can't promise I'm not gonna do that again if we talk about it."

He's looked at Chris so earnestly, so _worried_ that he couldn't help but want to pull Len into his arms. But he knew that wasn't the right thing to do at the moment.

"Look, Len," Chris said, much more calmly than he felt. "We're almost where I want to take you. Let's just get there and we'll sit and relax for awhile and enjoy this beautiful night. If something needs to be said, it will. If not, I know we're both sorry. _I'm_ certainly sorry for my part in it. More than sorry. We both screwed up. It's not the first time, and I'm not so naive as to think it will be the last either. What's important is that we both want to make this -- our relationship -- work." He gestured back and forth between them. "We'll figure it out."

Chris reached his hand out to Len. Len hesitated a moment, taking a deep breath and rubbing his hand across his chin. Chris looked at this man, his wonderful man, and saw the self-doubt and fear and wanted to kick himself for causing a lot of it with his idiocy. When Len took a step forward and laced his fingers through Chris's, he let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. He gave Len a reassuring smile and picked up the throw and bag and pulled him down the path.

***

A coyote howled off in the distance; crickets sang their evening song. Chris and Len lay on half of the throw, spread out on the grass in Chris's favorite spot on the property.

His father had it created for his mom when they married. It was a lush oasis in the middle of the desert, surrounded by ten foot tall oleanders and a wrought iron fence gate. There was a wall fountain in one corner, the sound of the water soothing. Next to the fountain was a patio table and chairs, along with a couple of chaises. Flowerbeds ran around the inside and separated the sitting area from the grassy area along with a cobblestone path. His mother often came out here to paint in the natural light, and Chris spent many days and nights lying in the grass soaking up the sun or dreaming under the stars.

Of course there were other things he did out here. His first time with Marcella had been out here in the grass.

"Whatcha thinking about, darlin'?" Len asked, breaking Chris from his trip down memory lane.

"You sure you want to know?" Chris asked with a lop-sided grin.

"Well, I'm assuming when you brought the blanket and certain _supplies_ that I saw you slip into the bag, you had something besides a moonlight walk in mind."

Chris chuckled. "You know me too well." He sighed an turned onto his side, his arm resting lazily on Len's stomach. "I'll admit, I did have sex on my mind out here. I wanted to share this place with you too. I had some pretty memorable times out here when I was young."  
"Christopher Pike, did you bring me out where you lost your virginity?" Len asked, eyebrow raising, a grin forming.

"Sort of," Chris laughed. "My first time with Steve was on the floor of his garage. And that house was demolished twenty years ago, so I can't exactly take you there..."

"That sounds uncomfortable," Len cringed.

"Well, it wasn't as bad as it sounds," Chris said, a nostalgic look on his face. "It was after band rehearsal. We'd kissed a couple of times. It all kind of took me by surprise actually."

"I bet that was the last time _that_ ever happened," Len said.

"True," Chris agreed. "You know I like being in control, but I was fourteen and didn't know what the hell I was doing and he was..." He paused. "It was memorable, even if it hadn't been the first time. There was a grubby old air mattress in the corner so it wasn't like I was on my hands and knees on the floor."

Len nodded.

"My first time with a woman... with Marcella, was out here though," Chris told him, placing a kiss on his neck.

"And I'm sure you brought a lot of your conquests out here too," Len said, sounding a bit insecure.

"Len," Chris stated matter-of-factly. "Yes, I did. Here and the loft in the barn. Which is one reason why I brought you out here." He cupped Len's cheek, looking into his eyes. "I want _you_ here. I want you to make me _yours_. I want you to fuck me here, fuck me into the ground and claim what belongs to _you_ now."

Chris didn't have to say another word. Len turned over and pushed him onto his back. Len sat up and straddled him, pulling his sweater off over his head. Chris ran his hands up Len's stomach.

"Do you like it when I take charge, darlin'?" Len asked.

"Not always," Chris hedged.

Leonard smiled knowingly. "But sometimes, yeah?"

There was no point denying it. "Yeah, sometimes. I like to let go, not have to make any decisions, not have to be in control. _Sometimes_ ," he emphasized.

"Don't worry, Chris, I don't think either one of us would like it this way all the time, or even most of the time, but _this_ time, I'm going to pin you underneath me and fuck you, and you're going to lie there and take it. Got it?"

At Chris's nod, Len pushed him back, flat on the ground, looming over him with arms braced on either side of Chris's head. He thrust his hips once, grinding himself down against Chris, who was already so hard he was aching.

"Oh yeah, I can tell how much you like that," Len said, with a smirk on his face that was disturbingly hot.

Chris let his eyes fall closed and gave himself up to the lassitude that was overcoming him. Len was in charge. Chris didn't have to plan, or think, or do anything but react. It was nice. "S'nice," he mumbled.

"Nice?" Len asked incredulously. " _Nice_? Oh, darlin', if it's just 'nice' then obviously I'm not trying hard enough."

Chris smiled slightly. Sometimes Len was just too easy to play.

He stayed passive, letting Len move his limbs around until he was bare, shivering just slightly in the cool evening air. Then Len was covering him, miles of hot, smooth skin, and he was shivering for an entirely different reason.

Len kissed him, demandingly, and he gave in without hesitation. Then Len moved on to nibbling his neck, worrying the skin where neck became shoulder, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. Len worked his way down Chris's body, touching every square inch, gently, tenderly, and then every now and again nipping hard enough to startle Chris into a surprised hiss.

Finally Chris couldn't take any more - his hips were circling uselessly, trying to get friction on his dick, but encountering nothing but air. Len snickered. Chris's eyes flew open and sought Leonard out, who was now leaning over to grab the lube, obviously enjoying Chris's predicament.

Chris glared, which only caused Len to laugh again. "Hold your horses, darlin'. This is my show, remember?"

Chris nodded reluctantly - giving up control was easier in theory than in practice - but he forced himself to relax, closing his eyes again.

"That's it, darlin'." The approval in Len's voice warmed him to an embarrassing extent. "Roll over," Len continued.

"Arf," Chris replied dryly, but he did as commanded. He was rewarded with a delighted, uninhibited peal of laughter from Len. That was a sound he didn't hear often enough.

"Good boy," Len said, playing along. "You want a biscuit?"

"Rather have a bone," Chris said, looking over his shoulder.

Len groaned. "Oh, that was terrible." But his eyes were sparkling with humor, so Chris was going to call it a win. Then Len firmly grasped the globes of Chris's ass, pulled them apart, and blew a cool stream of air directly across Chris's hole.

Chris gasped, and his head fell forward onto the blanket, his eyes closing once more so he could focus on the sensations. He felt the warm, wet softness of Len's tongue next, and couldn't stifle a gasp. Then Leonard blew again, and Chris whimpered. He was mildly embarrassed by the desperate noises he was making, but as long as Len kept doing _that_ , it was worth it. Len's tongue returned, this time delving slightly into his hole, and now accompanied by one slick finger. Chris couldn't help it - he keened.

He heard Len's breath catch, behind him. "God, I love it when you make those noises," Len said, voice husky. "Love when I make you lose it."

"Please," was all Chris could say, and he could hear the desperation in his own voice.

"Please what, darlin'? I want to hear you say it."

"Please fuck me. Don't tease anymore. I can't take it. I need to feel you inside me. _Please_." Chris had never begged for anyone before; couldn't imagine ever begging for anyone else. But with Len, it felt right.

"Fuck, baby, you beg so pretty. All right. I'll give you what you want, since you asked so nicely."

With that, Chris felt Len swinging one leg over his hip, straddling him. Mounting him. And then he felt the stretch of Len's thick cock, forcing him open with no further preparation or warning. It was a tight fit, and Len had to rock his hips, pushing himself in, inch by stuttering inch. Chris was howling now, lost in the exquisite pleasure-pain of it, and vaguely he thought he heard the coyotes howling back, in the distance.

Len never faltered, never slowed down. He pushed himself in until he was fully seated, then set up a fast, hard, punishing rhythm that gave Chris no respite. There was nowhere to escape to, no break from the constant barrage of sensation. Chris's whole body was being jerked up and down against the blanket under him, the rough wool causing deliciously painful friction on his cock, in counterpoint to the burning in his ass as Len reamed him without mercy.

Sooner than he would have thought possible, he was on the edge of orgasm. "Christ, Len, gonna come," he gasped.

Len's voice was full of satisfaction. "Yeah, baby, come for me. Let it go. Do it now."

That was enough to set him off, and with a shout, he exploded, his cock pulsing where it was trapped between his abdomen and the blanket.

Len changed the rhythm then, slowing, though each stroke was just as deep. "Gonna fuck you like this," he said. "While you're spent and loose, collapsed under me. Gonna use you for my pleasure, and you're just gonna lie there and take it, aren't you, baby?"

Chris groaned, the words hitting him unexpectedly hard, making his cock twitch uselessly.

"What was that, honey?" Len coaxed, punctuating his words with a particularly deep thrust, accompanied by a twist of his hips that further stretched Chris's abused hole.

He whimpered. "Yeah, Len, do it. Use me."

Len growled in satisfaction and with that, he began thrusting in earnest, chasing his own orgasm. Chris just lay there, in a state of lazy, boneless satisfaction, breathing in the scent of jasmine and oleander and male musk, listening to crickets chirp and Leonard's rasping breaths above him. He tried to imprint every detail in his memory to sustain him during the lonely times out in the black.

He could hear the hitching stutter in Len's breath that meant he was getting close, and so Chris clenched tight around him, giving Len an extra bit of friction. Len gasped loudly and then came with a groan, melting down along Chris's back as he shuddered to completion.

Len lay there for a moment, pinning Chris to the blanket with his weight, but just as Chris was getting uncomfortable, he rolled off and to the side with another groan.

"Holy shit, Chris."

Chris chuckled. "Yeah."

"You're mine," Len said.

"Yeah," Chris said again.

"Say it."

Chris turned his head, looked directly into Len's eyes. "I'm yours. Always."

***

Basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking, Chris reached over and pulled the end of the blanket over them. Len curled into him, so it covered them both as Chris shivered. Long moments passed as they lay content, listening to the desert sounds.

"So that 'talking' wasn't so bad," Chris said, breaking the silence.

Len laughed. Chris loved that sound.

"Darlin', we ain't never had a problem with that kind of talkin'," Len drawled in an exaggerated accent, kissing Chris's chest.

"True," Chris agreed. He sighed and ran his hand up and down Len's arm. He coughed, long and hacking, the cold night air getting to him. The walk out there and their lovemaking had tired him out more than he wanted to admit.

"We should probably head back, Chris," Len said, worry in his voice.

"Dammit, Len. I don't want to head back. I'm _fine_ ," he said sharply, sitting up a little too quickly. He was dizzy, and had to put his hand on the ground to brace himself. That only made Chris angrier, and he grabbed his clothes, started to stand and the dizziness worsened, making him nearly fall on top of Len who grabbed his arms, steadying him. "Fuck." He pulled out of Len's grip, stepping away. "Fucking alien bug."

He grabbed the bag he brought, a mumbling a litany of colorful words as he staggered around. He pulled a towel out , cleaned up quickly, and got dressed, still unsteady, his back to Len. He wanted to storm off. He wanted to ignore the fact that Len was behind him. He half wished he'd brought his comm with him and could call for an emergency beam out.

Instead, he took a step, intending to head back to the house, and if not for Len grabbing him, would have fallen flat on his face, or at least down on his knees. "Fuck."

"Are you through acting like a goddamn two year old throwing a tantrum now or should I let you fall on your ass like you deserve?" Len asked, muttering under his breath about _goddamn infant starship captains._

"I don't know, are you going to spank me?" Chris said defiantly, taking a couple steps away from Len and shooting him a 'see I can walk _just fine_ ' look, daring him to intervene again. He purposely ignored the fact that his lover was standing there in the dark completely naked, the moonlight gleaming off his skin.

"Fine," Len spat. He dressed quickly, slipping into his jeans and not even bothering with his shirt. He picked up his socks and boots and growled. "Since you're so _fine_ , I'm going back to the house. When you fall on your ass again and hurt yourself, call Philip to come patch you up because I'm not gonna do it anymore."

He watched as Len took a few steps, and he wanted to be angry, he really did. Instead, he grinned slyly. "Uh, Len," he called out, and waited a beat for him to stop and turn around. "The ranch is back the other way."

"Asshole."

"That I am," Chris agreed.

"You know that's not something to be proud of."

"Like you aren't proud of your stubbornness?"

"Touché," Len conceded.

"Fuck, Len," Chris sighed, setting the bag down. "I'm sorry. I'm just..."

"I know, Chris," he said sympathetically. "I _know_."

He took a deep breath, running his hand through his hair clearly frustrated. "Let's go sit down --"

"Before you fall down," Len said, raising his eyebrow.

His knee jerk reaction was to shake his head and say a forceful _no_ , but he knew he was on shaky ground. "We need to talk, Len," he admitted, much more calmly than he felt.

"Last time someone said those five words to me I ended up divorced and on a shuttle to Starfleet," Len said warily.

"If anything, I'd think you'd be the one doing the divorcing of _me_ and we're not even married yet," Chris said, as he gestured with his arm towards the bench.

Len put his shirt and boots down on the ground, and walked over, hesitant to sit down, his uneasiness clearly visible on his face. Chris squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. He watched, mentally slapping himself as Len sat down, his shoulders slumping. He was such a fool.

"Yes you are," Len agreed, the corner of his mouth turning up.

"I didn't realize I'd said that out loud," Chris said.

"You didn't," Len said, smiling at Chris's surprised look. "Give me a little credit, Chris. Like you said earlier, I _know_ you."

"Will you think less of me if I admit that scares me a little?" Chris confessed, sitting down next to him.

"No, but it's a nice reminder that you're human under there," Len replied. Chris glared sideways, wondering if this was a bad idea -- maybe this wasn't the time and they'd be better off going back to the house. He sighed, but gave Len the benefit of the doubt. "You don't need to compensate for anything -- trust me on this," Len added, raising an eyebrow, and Chris could feel his cheeks flush hot. It still surprised him after all this time how easily Len could get to him like that.

"The rest of Starfleet is judging every move I make. I can't afford to look weak," he said after a moment, taking the safe route. It was apparent they were both going to skirt around their issues.

"That's bullshit and you know it," Len growled. "You at your _weakest_ is still a hundred times better than most on their best day."

"It isn't enough." Chris opened his mouth to continue ignoring the compliment and stopped, thinking better of it.

"It should be." Len sighed and seemed to deflate a bit. "It has to be if we're going to get through this, Chris. I know you're frustrated. I can't imagine what it must be like to be as hale and hearty as you were and to lose that in an instant."

Chris just sat there, a bitter look on his face. He wanted to rail against it all, and Len would be an easy target right now. But he knew it wasn't Len's fault, and he needed to stop taking it out on him. He _knew_ that, yet it was still so hard not to lash out. It never failed to surprise him that there was someone in his life that he trusted enough to see the emotional, uncontrolled Chris Pike.

"Look, Chris," Len began, stretching his arm out casually behind Chris, but mindful not to touch him. "I know right now you're trying to decide whether you want to scream to the heavens for the unfairness of the last couple of years or whether it's time to actually admit that you _aren't_ okay and that maybe you never will be."

Chris opened his mouth but Len didn't let him talk.

"No, you can't keep going like there isn't something wrong, Chris, because there is. You're trying to do everything like you did before the Narada, and right now, that's not possible. In fact, I'd swear on my daddy's grave that part of the reason you're still having so many problems is because you've never done what you _should_ have done in the first place. Let yourself recover." He held his hand up, making it clear Chris needed to shut up and listen.

"Look, darlin'," Len softened, brushing his hand across the back of Chris's neck. "I want to help you get through this. You keep forgettin' that it's a miracle you even survived all of this, much less that you were able to walk again."  
Silence surrounded them as Len's words sunk in.

"Why do I feel like there is a giant 'but' in there?" Chris finally said, sounding oddly resigned.

Len turned and looked at him, determination in his eyes. "Do you trust me, Chris?"

"Of course I trust you," Chris said, surprised at the direction their conversation was heading. "Do you think I don't?"

Len was shaking his head, confusing Chris even more.

"No, I meant that if I gave you a medical plan, more like a life plan, with some drastic changes in your everyday routine, would you follow it? Would you trust me enough to try something for awhile that I think in the long run, with the other changes we're making in your medication, might just get you back, or at least closer to where you were before?"

Chris's lips thinned, and his first inclination was to shake his head and refuse. He had an inkling what Len would want him to change, and he honestly wasn't sure he could. Of course, thinking that made him realize being like that was not only foolish, but if he was admitting to himself that he couldn't do something, it also made him a coward. Chris Pike was _not_ a coward.

"Anything," Chris finally managed. Len looked at him, wondering what the hell he was talking about. "I mean, I'll do anything you say."

"Really?" Len said, eyebrow raising. Chris wasn't sure, but he didn't think he'd ever seen it raise to its current level.

"I'm serious, Len," Chris said stoically. "I know that if I keep going like I have been, I'll not only keep sabotaging my health, but --" He paused, swallowing hard, surprised at how much emotion was bubbling up inside. "I can't lose you, Len. I _won't_ lose you."

"You aren't going to lose me, darlin'," Len promised. "You need to make some changes, Chris. You need to take it easy for a while. And that means staying on the Exeter unless you absolutely can't. No first contacts. No beaming down to explore. Lots of sleep, even if Philip needs to sedate you for awhile, and I'll be sending you a diet and exercise plan too."

"Len..." Chris shook his head.

"This isn't negotiable, Chris," Len interrupted, a serious look on his face. "This is your life. This is _our_ life. I promise, Chris. I swear on my mama's peach cobbler if you follow this, in six months tops you'll feel like a new man."

Chris wanted to protest. He wanted to refuse, but looking into Len's eyes, the concern, the worry, the _love_ completely took all the fight out of him.

"Okay," he said, resigned. "Okay, Len."

"We'll discuss this more later," Len said softly, relief on his face. They wrapped their arms around each other and sat listening to an owl hooting nearby and a coyote howling in the distance.

Chris was content. Wary of what was to come, but content. He could do this. For Len. He knew had no other choice.

After several moments, Chris stretched and sat back. He looked over at Len, barechested in the moonlight, and felt himself stirring again. Shit, that shouldn't be possible, not this soon, but Leonard did that to him. Leonard caught him looking, and gave him a once-over in return, the corner of his mouth quirked up.

"Already? Damn, Chris." He sounded impressed.

"Take off your jeans," Chris said, already stripping off his own clothes. Leonard rolled his eyes a little at the peremptory tone but did as he was told.

"Mmm, looks like I'm not the only one ready to go again," Chris commented, watching as Leonard's cock thickened and filled under his gaze.

Leonard groaned. "I can't believe the things you do to me."

Chris grinned wickedly. "Oh, and I haven't even _done_ anything yet." He moved toward Len, then straddled his lap, pushing him firmly into the backrest of the bench. He grabbed Len's now-hard cock, feeling it twitch eagerly in his hand, and then lined it up with his already stretched entrance and sank down, taking it in easily.

He released a breath, long and slow, when he was fully seated, his buttocks pressed against Len's thighs. Leonard grasped his hips firmly to keep him from moving. "Just stay there for a bit, darlin'. Feels so good to be buried deep inside you."

Chris settled against Len, enjoying the stretch of his ass, and the feel of Leonard's shoulders, strong and smooth, under his fingertips. Then he noticed Leonard looking at him speculatively. He raised an eyebrow. "What is it, Len?"

"Mmm, just thinking. Wondering how many people you've had out here in the desert, how many you've fucked, how many you've let fuck you."

Chris frowned. "Len, you know I'm yours now."

Leonard laughed, free and full, and something in Chris eased. "Oh, I know that, darlin'. It just turns me on a bit, is all, thinking that of anyone you've ever fucked before, anyone you've let close enough to bring here before, I'm the one who gets to keep you."

Chris looked at Len consideringly. Without warning, Len bucked up against him, pushing his cock deeper, and Chris gasped. "Tell me, baby. Tell me how many lovers you've had out here."

Chris groaned. When Len did _that_ with his hips, it was hard to think. "Fuck, Len, I don't know. A dozen? Maybe two dozen?"

Len chuckled and swiveled his hips again just so, making Chris gasp. "Yeah? And how many of them have fucked you out here, under the moon? Buried themselves in your sweet little ass and watched you fall apart? Listened to you moan and beg for more?"

At that, Chris did moan. "Shit, Len. No one. No one else."

Chris heard Len's breath catch. "Damn, Chris, I'm the only one to fuck you here? Didn't expect that."

Chris came back down to earth enough to focus on Leonard so he could answer. "I've only ever bottomed for a couple of people. Never used to like it much. Kinda surprises me that I like it so much now," he admitted.

Len's grin was feral. "Show me, baby. Show me how much you like it. Want you to ride me."

Chris groaned, and did as Len asked. Slowly at first, and then with increasing speed and force, he slammed himself down onto Len's thick cock, then pulled back, Len's strong hands helping to lift and guide him with each stroke. He knew it was so Len could make sure he didn't tire himself out, but he couldn't bring himself to resent it, not when it felt so incredible.

Leonard's eyes were intent on him. "This was one of Jocelyn's favorite positions. She could control the depth and speed of penetration, and I could finger her clit while she fucked her pussy on my dick. It was good, but - fuck, Chris - this is so much better. Your ass is so much tighter than her cunt. Wanted to do it this way, wanted to fuck her ass, but she'd never let me. Glad I didn't, now. God, Chris, the way your body grips my cock - it's amazing, darlin'. And you take it so much harder than she did too, so greedy for it. You were made for this, weren't you? Made for riding my cock."

Chris let out a choked gasp but couldn't reply. He couldn't believe that hearing about Leonard fucking his ex-wife was turning him on so hard, but there was no denying that it was. He was so close to coming, just from this, without even a touch on his dick.

And then suddenly Len _was_ touching him and it was even better. Len's hand was firm, warm, and dry, providing enough friction and pressure that it was nearly painful, but so fucking good. He started keening again, howling to the desert sky, and in the background he could hear Len murmuring, "Yeah, take it, Chris, such a good boy, such a slut for my cock, aren't you?"

The words pushed him over the edge and with a wordless shout he came hard, exploding into a million pieces, only distantly aware of Leonard's own orgasm. He shuddered helplessly, unable to control his own thoughts or movements. He wouldn't have even stayed upright if not for Len's strong hands now supporting him gently, not letting him fall. He was gasping, nearly sobbing as he gradually came down from the high. He buried his forehead against Len's shoulder, feeling the frantic pumping of his heart finally slowing. Len's hands were smoothing over him gently now, and Len was murmuring soft endearments that he couldn't quite make out.

There was no other word to describe it - Chris was undone. Completely and totally undone.

He drew a couple of deep breaths, and dropped kisses on Len's shoulder, his neck, working his way back to his mouth. Their tongues tangled lazily, the cool air causing him to shiver, the sensation overwhelming.

He'd never felt more complete. Never felt so much. He couldn't lose this. Ever. Without another thought, he was speaking, his voice raspy and demanding.

"I don't want to wait. Let's get married. Now."

  



	48. The Carpenter Said Nothing But (Part 43 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shore leave hangover.

_**Trek Fic: The Carpenter Said Nothing But (Pike/McCoy, R, Part 43 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )**_  
 **Title:** The Carpenter Said Nothing But (Part 43 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Author:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** R  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** Around 3000  
 **Summary:** Shore leave hangover.  
 **A/N:** from [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) and [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) Hokay, we're gonna try to update this puppy once a week, though the chapters will probably be shorter on average than before the unplanned-and-lengthy hiatus. Wish us luck! Also: replies may be kind of slow in coming, due to this silly work thing (pfft, stupid need for money) but we treasure each and every comment and we will respond as soon as we can.

  


**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike  
Friday 2260.285**

Married. Three days ago I got married. Or more like two depending on what galactic time zone I go by. All I know is that shortly after midnight on Tuesday 2260.282, October 9th, Len and I got married.

It’s been about twenty minutes since I typed that last sentence and frankly, I still don’t know exactly what to say. I guess maybe I should start from the beginning.

Shore leave was incredible, albeit short. Having Len at the ranch was -- Well, the ranch never felt more like _home_ having him there. It was like all the pieces of my life had finally fallen into place. There were moments that seemed so surreal I wouldn’t have been surprised if I woke up and it had been all a dream.

And then one moment we were having incredible sex and the next thing I knew we were getting married. Literally. I have no idea what possessed me. It was just like when I proposed, it came out of nowhere. I can’t explain it other than the feeling was so overwhelming – I just didn’t want to wait. I felt like if we did, I might smother.

Except now I – Well fuck, I know this sounds bad, but now I feel like I’m being smothered because I DID get married. Don’t get me wrong, I want to marry Len. Wanted to marry him. I guess I thought I’d have another year to wrap my head around it again. I swore I was never getting married again. And now I feel like – Well, there is a feeling twisting in my stomach that I don’t like much.

Hell, this entry is all over the place. Kind of like what I’m feeling. It’s not all bad. There are times since I arrived back on Exeter a couple of hours ago that just knowing that, officially, Len belongs to me now – Well, I’m sure I’m grinning like a twelve-year-old schoolgirl with her first crush. Moments later I feel so much absolute panic that I nearly hyperventilate.

The fact is, I’m terrified. I spent the last couple of days with Len caught up in a whirlwind. I felt euphoric. And as long as I was with Len, I was happy. I was ecstatic. Everything felt right in the world, but it only took a few hours when he was dropped off for me to – Well, have second thoughts. And third. Did we rush things? Fuck, I don’t know. I _know_ I want to spend the rest of my life with him. I’ve known that for a long time. And not being able to talk to _anyone_ about how I’m feeling since we’re keeping it a secret -- That’s certainly not helping.

Add into the fact that I returned from shore leave with a comm from my mother with all kinds of questions about the wedding now that we’ve set a date and place and the party is over. So to her it’s now full speed ahead. Len and I have already discussed and decided we’d still go through with that wedding. Considering no one will ever know we got married, and if my mother found out – Well, she’d be disappointed in me I’m sure. No, she’d be crushed.

Fuck. What the hell was I thinking? Apparently I wasn’t. Len was buried in my ass. I was sitting on his lap after having an orgasm that I would swear shook the desert. And we had been talking about previous conquests, and I was feeling so damn possessive. More than usual. And I just wanted to make him mine. In every way possible. So I told him I didn’t want to wait. That I wanted to get married now. The look of shock on his face quickly turned into a smile and an hour later we were standing in suits in my study, submitting a confidential marriage license online. A short vidcomm to my cousin in Australia who just happens to minister and we were married. Just like that. Married.

Again, what the hell was I thinking? And how the hell did I think I would be able to keep this a secret – Not be able to talk about this with anyone. All I have is this journal and I feel like it’s even judging me. I told Len I’d comm him tonight when I was back aboard and settled and what the hell am I supposed to say? Gee honey, remember when we got married? I think it’s a mistake. Of course there isn’t a heck of a lot I can do about it right now. Or ever. I’m married to Leonard McCoy til death do us part. And I’m fucking terrified. I don’t quite think that’s the way you’re supposed to feel starting a marriage.

This isn’t helping. I think I’ll go swim some laps. Then I need to calm down and comm Len. My husband. Fuck. I think I’ll be having a drink or three first.

 **To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Friday 2260.285

Dear Len,

I arrived safely back on the Exeter a few hours ago. I was able to sleep on the way back, so I’m feeling pretty well rested. I needed it after the last thirty-six hours we spent together. Not that I’m complaining, mind you.

The ship seems fine, and yes I was worried. A Captain never likes leaving their ship and I might just be a bit more extreme about that than most. The crew seems to have enjoyed some much-needed shore leave and we’re ready to head back out to uncharted territory tomorrow morning.

I just swam laps and had a couple glasses of wine. I hope that’s not something I’m not supposed to do. I know you said you’d be sending the plan to Philip, but I didn’t see what harm that could do since I got more exercise with _you_ the last few days and you never said anything about the wine we drank. Despite what you may be thinking, I do plan on following doctor’s orders.

I’m sorry this is so short, but it’s already Gamma and want to try to get a little sleep before Alpha when we head out. We’ll just be warping through empty space, but I want to be at my best for my crew.

I love you, Len. I miss you like hell already.

Always,

Chris

  
 **To: Philip Boyce (pboyce@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Friday 2260.285

Dear Philip,

Well, a miracle occurred and Chris has finally agreed to make some major changes in order to improve his physical health. You know how stubborn he is, especially about his own well-being, so I'm counting on you to make sure he follows through on it.

You see him day-to-day, so I'll leave the details to you, but the gist of it is that I told him he was going to have to take it easy - no more marathon workout sessions. I told him no more away missions unless it's absolutely necessary. He's got to sleep a full eight hours - eight _consecutive_ hours - in every 24-hour cycle. Even if you have to sedate him at first. And he has to eat better. I don't mean he should cut back on calories - that's the last thing he needs - but he can't subsist on grease and empty carbs alone. A bacon burger once in a while, fine. But he's got to get better nutrition if he's going to heal up. Fruits, vegetables, whole grains, lean meats, fish, nuts, olive oil. Plenty of water, not too much coffee. And he's got to eat at regular intervals - no skipping meals because he's "too busy." You know the drill. Hell, he knows it too, he just won't do it without someone to make him. Better you than me - he's going to resent you something fierce for awhile, and I'm sorry for that.

In terms of exercise, see if you can put together a program for him that will build strength and endurance without being so hard on his body. I'd recommend against running right now. Low or no impact is probably better - he likes water, so swimming, plus some water resistance training, might be ideal. Please, Philip, don't let him overdo it. You know he'll try.

If we have him do all that, we should be able to wean him off the immuno-suppressants completely. I know he'll feel better then, get some of his energy back. Don't let him convince you that that means he's 100% cured and doesn't need to keep up with his changes!

When he decides that enough is enough and he's tired of all the restrictions, and you and I both know that it's _when_ , not _if_ , remind him that he promised me. Remind him that he said he didn't want to lose me and that he knew he had to make these changes. I don't know if it'll help, but I hope it will.

I know this is asking a lot of you. It'll put a strain on your friendship with Chris. Hell, you've seen the strain it's put on our relationship. But you and I both love him, in our different ways, and at least for my part, I'd rather have him be whole and healthy, rather than weak and broken, even if he hates me for it.

I'll do anything I can from this end, but I know the brunt of this is going to fall on you. Good luck.

Best,  
Len

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy  
Saturday 2260.286**

Holy fucking shit, I'm married. To Admiral slash billionaire playboy slash galactic hero Christopher Richard Pike. Unbelievable.

I don't even quite know how it happened - one second I'm fucking him out under the stars - and god _damn_ was that hot - and the next we're standing in front of a vid screen saying "I do." I could still feel his come, drying on my chest, even as we were saying our vows. Talk about surreal.

Fuck, remind me to never make major life decisions in the aftermath of mind-blowing sex. Not that I regret it. I don't, at all. I'd do it again in a heartbeat.

But... I think Chris might regret it. Fuck, that hurts to write, to admit to myself. But I can tell he's panicking now. Not that he's said anything, not that he _would_ say anything. But his last comm to me, once he got back to the Exeter - it was strange. Almost cold. It was like nothing's changed, like he wants to pretend the whole thing never happened.

This is the exact same thing that happened when he proposed. He blurted it out in the heat of the moment and had second thoughts in the light of day.

I can only hope he'll come around, calm down, and not decide that it was a huge mistake. Jim suggested that I give him some room, not crowd him right now, and he's probably right.

Speaking of Jim - Chris and I agreed not to tell anyone, to keep our marriage a secret for the time being. I think both of us knew I'd end up spilling to Jim, but as it turns out, I didn't have to. We were in my quarters my first evening back, having a drink, and I guess the expression on my face must have been especially goofy or something. Jim grinned and said "someone had a weekend of hot sex, huh?" I just smiled and suddenly his eyes sharpened and he was looking at me with that piercing Captain stare of his. God damn, I hate it when he does that. Anyway, after a couple seconds, he said, "No, it's more than that. What did you do, run off to Vegas and get married?"

Well, naturally I turned bright red and started choking on my drink, and the game was up. He said "Holy shit, you _did_! Oh my God, Bones!"

He slapped me on the back, congratulated me, and then insisted that we toast to "wedded bliss." Jackass. He's genuinely happy for me, though, and I have to admit that's a weight off my mind. And I can honestly tell Chris that I didn't spill the beans. Jim figured it out all on his own.

Then, like I said, I got the comm from Chris. The oh-so-neutral comm. I was glad that I had Jim to talk to about it or I'd probably be in a panic myself right about now. Not that I feel good, exactly, but Jim reminded me that this happened before, with the proposal, and that we got through that just fine. He said it's obvious how much Chris loves me and once he gets over his attack of nerves, he'll remember that he does want to be married to me. I hope he's right.

I'd better write back to Chris before he has any more time to work himself into a state. Not quite sure what to say. Guess I'll just make it up as I go along - that seems to be par for the course for me and Chris.

  
 **To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Sunday 2260.287

Dear Chris,

I miss you like hell too. Wish we had more time together - well, that's nothing new. I always wish that.

I wanted to let you know that Jim knows. I mean, he _knows_ , you know? Ah, hell, I'm no good at this. Look, I didn't say anything. I swear to god, he took one look at me and figured it out all on his own. Guess I really do wear my heart on my sleeve. At least no one else has noticed anything different.

I sent the outline of your new regimen to Philip and he'll work out the details and go over it with you. Be a good boy and do what he says, all right? Ha, I can just see your sour face as you read _that_ sentence. And I'm sure you'll be even less happy when you hear about the changes you'll be making. It'll be worth it, though, I promise.

Color me _not_ surprised that you're worse than most captains when it comes to hating to leave your ship. Bet you've been running drills and surprise inspections just to make sure they haven't somehow forgotten all their training and discipline while you were gone. Am I right?

Nothing much of interest here to report. I'm sure that'll change soon enough - it's always one damn thing after another, it seems like.

I keep thinking about that night under the stars. Seems like every time I close my eyes, I'm right back there, with you. I hope you know I'm already half in love with your ranch, Chris. You might have to vie for my affections against a piece of land. I'm joking, of course - the ranch wouldn't mean much to me without you there. I can see us there, darlin', there and at the Georgia place too. Someday, when we retire. And that garden of your mama's, the one with all the oleander, that has a very special place in my heart - well, and parts further south, if you catch my drift. Damn, Chris, that was amazing.

All right, I've got to go on duty in a few so I'd better derail that particular train of thought. You keep yourself safe out there, all right?

I love you, Chris. Always.

Yours,  
Len

  
 **To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Philip Boyce (pboyce@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Monday 2260.288

Dear Len,

Please don’t apologize for putting me in this position. I’ll gladly be the bad guy if it helps Chris in the end. I’ve already started drawing up a plan based on your suggestions and including the procedures for getting him weaned off the immuno-suppressants the panel at Starfleet Medical laid out. I truly feel if he actually follows the plan, it shouldn’t take more than three months to do that and six months before he sees some major results.

I’m not sure how you got him to agree, but I’m glad you did. I’ve been worried about his health, especially his mental health. A man like Chris doesn’t do well in these situations. He’s handled it all far better than I expected. Of course, I have to give you credit for most of that. He’s a guarded one, Chris. Never let anyone past those walls of his until you. He’s always in control. Always has been. Since the day I met him he’s been relentlessly focused and nothing got in the way of that.

I’ve seen the change in the couple of days we’ve been back. He actually asked me for a sleeping aid the last two nights, and I’ve seen him do nothing more than swim in the pool, and didn’t even swim as many laps as usual. He’s throwing himself into work though, making changes and ran two drills on his first day back, and ripped Engineering a new one over safety lapses over the weekend. He’ll settle down I’m sure.

I’ll send you the complete plan as soon as I finish it and get the panel’s final approval on the medical side of it. Then you can look it over and make any adjustments you see fit. And please, feel free to do so. I take no offense.

Take care. I promise I’ll keep a steady eye on Chris.

Philip

  



	49. To Leave the Oyster Bed (Part 44 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuing correspondence of... yeah, you know the drill.

_**Trek Fic: To Leave the Oyster-Bed (TTOMT Part 44, Pike/McCoy, NC-17)**_  
 **Title:** To Leave the Oyster Bed (Part 44 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Author:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** Around 3400  
 **Summary:** The continuing correspondence of... yeah, you know the drill.  
 **A/N:** from [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) and [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/): Right at the wire, but we did it - an update one week later. Or, well, we WOULD'VE, if lj wasn't being a butt.

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. Pike  
Monday 2260.288**

Well, I think I’ve either scared half of my crew in the last few days -- they have finally learned what a hard-ass Captain I can be. It feels good in some ways, to have that control. I’ve been a different Captain since the Narada -- a different man. Not all of it is bad -- in fact, despite what my last journal entry might imply, I feel incredibly lucky to be married to Leonard McCoy. Yes, I still have moments of absolute panic, but I’m working my way through them.

I also figured out it’s not as much about the marriage itself as that once again I did something rash and impulsive. Christopher Pike does not do rash and impulsive. Never has. Well, maybe it’s somewhat about being married again. I swore I’d never do it again. Even when I retired I wasn’t going to get married to whomever I settled down with.

Yet, here I am married to one of Starfleet’s finest medical doctors, someone who is more than twenty years younger than me, who is divorced and is the best friend of the man who will no doubt go down as the greatest captain in Starfleet history. When I was younger, maybe more naive, I thought that might be me one day. And I know I’m a good captain, a good leader, but Jim Kirk -- Well, he’s already saved the damn universe. Who can compete with that?

Not that it’s a competition, mind you. I am not foolish enough to think that if I were to go head to head with him, even in my prime, I’d win. No, I’d lose hands down. That’s hard for me to admit. Damn hard. He’s far from perfect, just like myself at his age. But he’s light years ahead of where I was at his age, especially emotionally. Which I think is why -- Well, one of the reasons I’m so jealous of him. He had no home life, no role models, and tragedy after tragedy -- I had pretty much the idyllic childhood and life and I’m the one that’s emotionally stunted.

I could get more introspective here, but frankly I’ve done it enough the last four days despite how busy I’ve kept myself. If my grandmother were privy to my thoughts and actions she’d probably look at me and tell me to grow the fuck up. I know she’d be disappointed in me, with all the pain and trouble I’ve caused Jim and, if I’m being honest, Len. It’s probably hurt him even more.

Onto better subjects, my health. I’ll admit I’m still struggling. But I’m trying to be reasonable. I know that any day now Philip will be coming to me with all kinds of rules and restrictions and fuck, I’m going to hate every minute of it. I’ll do it because I promised Len I would, but -- Well, I don’t have to make it easy for either of them. Yes, I’m probably being childish here, but it will make me feel like I have a little bit of control over what’s happening, even if it is an illusion. See, I have learned a few things about myself because of all this. Mainly, I’m a first class selfish asshole control freak. Well, not all of that is new, and I guess I forgot jealousy there, but that is a category on its own. But like I’ve said before, I never had anyone who meant so much to me. That I couldn’t stand losing. It’s terrifying loving someone so much.

Now, I’d better get some sleep. I’m gonna wake the crew up in four hours for another drill. I probably shouldn’t worry about losing Len anymore. At this rate, my crew is going to jettison me out an airlock.

 **To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
** From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
Date sent: Wednesday 2260.290 

Chris!

You dog! I hear congratulations are in order. You’ve really done a number on Bones, let me tell you. I’ve never seen him turn such a shade of red as when I asked him about his long weekend.

All joking aside, I’m glad you finally made an honest man out of Bones. I mean people were starting to talk, and considering the gossip onboard, it hasn’t been pretty. Of course now half the crew seems to think I’m on suicide watch because you’ve officially snatched away the love of my life now that you’ve had the engagement party. I’m told they posted a picture of me from the party looking _devastated_ and apparently right after the picture, I ran out and hired a ship to leave, not able to bear to see you two together anymore. Can you believe that shit? I didn’t read the newsnets to see the picture or how it started and I don't want to, but I’m sure it started from something harmless like every ridiculous gossip story does. Apparently my crew have too much time on their hands. Let’s see what happens when I give them double drills every day for a week.

I hope you know that this isn’t going to save you the embarrassment of the Best Man speech I’ve been working on for Bones for months at your formal wedding. In fact, this has given me even more ammunition for the brilliant oration I’ve prepared. Thanks for that!

Nothing much going on here. It’s been quiet, eerily quiet. Uhura can’t even pick up any of the usual chatter from the Romulan and Klingon vessels. Something is up, and I don’t think it’s anything good. I’ve sent a report to Starfleet asking for permission to deploy a communications pod just outside the neutral zone in hopes of picking up something from where I think the Romulans are hiding, but I was denied. Even Spock thinks it’s a logical plan and sent a rebuttal to their denial to no avail. My inclination is to do it anyway, but I was told that under no circumstances was I to deploy any type of device or I’d be subject to disciplinary action. Fuckers. The Romulans are up to something and they’ve tied my hands. I have another idea but… Well, I think it would be better if I don’t involve you considering the pole the Admiralty have up their collective ass. I wouldn’t want them to charge you as an accessory to my ‘Federation Crime’ as they put it, for launching something that doesn’t even violate any fucking treaty in place.

Shit. I’m sorry. I’m frustrated, and I’ll even admit I’m worried. And since I’m worried, that has thrown Bones into a state of apocalyptic panic which results in him riding his staff into the ground with attack and disaster drills. If looks could kill, I’d be dead on the floor right now from the look Christine gave me this morning when I brought Bones breakfast at 0500. He’d already been in his office an hour, get this, _without coffee,_ and was re-writing several directives on emergency triage.

I guess that’s about it. I have a meeting with the command crew early tomorrow morning to make a decision about securing the sector where I know the Romulans are lying in wait. There are a couple of freighters due to come through there in a week, so time is of the essence.

I’m really happy for you, Chris. I hope you know I mean that. It also makes me feel better knowing Bones has someone… Well, you know, in case something happens to me. Despite what he thinks, I don’t have a death wish, and it’s always foremost on my mind to get back safely to him. You know as well as I do, it’s just not always possible.

I love you old man. Good luck with your new lifestyle plan.

Jim

 **To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Philip Boyce (pboyce@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Thursday 2260.291 

Dear Len,

Attached you'll find the final medical plan regarding removing Chris from the immuno-suppressants. We’re going for a four month plan instead of the original three. The consensus was three was too risky considering he’s starting out well below where we’d want his white cell count to be to begin implementation. I still believe we can get him up to snuff within six months if we can both keep him focused and under control. Easier said than done, of course. He’s already starting to balk at a few suggestions I’ve made when we’ve met for meals in the Officer’s Mess. I reminded him that my medical authority allows me to override any requests he makes for food and not to tempt me to enforce it. I think even you would have been proud of the colorful words that he spewed under his breath.

He’s a wily one and I’m sure he’ll try to push the limits as much as he can, but I have my ways of keeping him under control. And if those don’t work, I’m not above comming his grandmother. She and I correspond somewhat regularly. I possibly may let it slip what a pain in the keister her grandson is being and I guarantee you Chris will be as compliant as a purring tribble after she’s done with him. He may not speak to me for awhile, but it’s for his own stubborn good.

Congratulations on the commendation for the cerebrospinal depuration device you invented for the procedure on Chris. Long overdue of course, although as slow as Fleet Medical moves sometimes, it’s somewhat miraculous they did it this quickly. Since you have the right to name it, you should use Chris’s name somehow. It would embarrass the hell out of him, but of course he’d never admit it.

Take care of yourself and stay safe out there.

Philip

 **To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date sent: Friday 2260.292

Dear Len,

Forgive me for not writing sooner. The only excuse I can offer is that I felt like it would be wrong to send you another superfluous comm ignoring the obvious elephant in the room. Well, in my room. We’re married. There, I said it and I didn’t even choke or sputter when I typed it this time. In other words, I’m getting used to it and I’m sorry, Len. I hope you know that it wasn’t about marrying you as much as that I once again did something spur of the moment and irrational.

Well, that’s probably not the best thing to say to you, but I’m not going to erase it because the last thing I want to do is start our married life hiding things from you. Yes, I completely freaked out when I got back to the Exeter. I’m sure that’s not a surprise to you, but I’m sorry if any of my actions have hurt you. Truly.

I’m happy to be married to you, Len. You have no idea how happy. Am I still panicking at times? Hell yes. I’m sure in your own way you still are too. I know it can’t be easy for you considering the disaster that was your marriage to Jocelyn. I know you had said never again, just as I had. And look at us now. Right now I don’t feel anything other than utterly blessed to have you in my life, Len. I don’t regret it even though truthfully it still scares the hell out of me.

It doesn’t help that I have no one to talk to about this. However, I do believe it’s the right thing keeping it a secret. I have been feeling guilty as hell with every comm I get from my mother and grandmother. I know they would both be disappointed in me. And very hurt that I’ve kept this from them. So I’m just going to go along with whatever circus they are planning for next year. Just pinch me if I get that sour look on my face when we’re home and I’m around them. Promise?

Now let’s talk about that night. Jesus Len, that was not only the best night of my life, but the hottest. Our time in the desert, you fucking me, the dirty talk. Fuck, I love it when you talk dirty to me. And I never thought it was possible to get so turned on when you described fucking your wife. I’m hard just thinking about it.

After we said “I do,” and I turned the comm off with my cousin – Damn, Len. Pushing you over my desk and pulling our pants down just enough to fuck you there on the spot in front of the dark screen, where we’d just gotten married. I’m surprised I lasted as long as I did. I couldn’t believe you were mine. I had to stake my claim right there.

I’m not sure how we stumbled to my bedroom and into the shower after that. And seeing you there naked in my bed, _our_ bed now. Fuck, Len. Taking you in that bed knowing we were married – I don’t think there are any drugs that can make me feel as high as I did at that moment. I honestly didn’t think either one of us were up for more sex, but I couldn’t resist all the miles of skin that were waiting for me. You looked so damn beautiful there, your golden skin contrasting against the dark blue sheets on the bed, the moonlight and the stars shining down from the skylight. Fuck. I know the picture of you like that is going to be burned in my mind forever.

I didn’t expect anything but sleep to happen after the evening we’d already had, but when I slid up next to you, felt your skin against my hands, felt the goosebumps rise on your skin just from my touch – Jesus Len, I still don’t think you understand what you do to me. A few languid kisses later and fuck if you weren’t hardening. Thoughts of sleep disappeared and I slid down, mapping your skin with my tongue, claiming every inch as I worked my way down and -- god, the sound you made when I swallowed you whole. The way your hips pushed up into my mouth. You, Leonard McCoy, were made for my mouth, my cock.

And when you shuddered and came in my mouth, I couldn’t get inside you fast enough. It didn’t take long to get you ready, still stretched and red from me fucking you in my office. The knowledge that I was fucking my husband drove me to – God, Len. I wanted to take my time with you, make you come undone underneath me. But I felt like a man possessed, consumed by the need to – Fuck Len, I just changed to dictating this comm because I am so hard I needed to wrap my hands around my dick, pretending they're yours, squeezing me, stroking me. God it felt amazing to be buried deep in your ass in my bed, _our_ bed on our wedding night. I thought you had made me come undone earlier when I demanded we marry, but this was even more intense.

I don’t know how to explain it, Len. With every stroke, every breath, I was giving myself to you, and looking down in at you, seeing your love for me in your eyes, I realized you were doing the same. You were mine. I was yours. To be that sappy old man that I know I haven’t been lately, we were one.

Fuuuuuck Len. I’m coming. Oh God, I love you so much oh jesus Len oh fuck oh ahhhhhhh, yes, so good, fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck…

I hope you know that there is come dripping down my vid screen right now. Does that turn you on, Len? Does it, baby? I know it does.

Jesus that was intense. I hope you can hear the truth in my voice when I say that I don’t regret marrying you, Leonard McCoy, despite my recent behavior. Does it scare the hell out of me? Yes, yes it does. But it scares me more thinking of life without you.

I’ve told you this before, but want to remind you in case you’ve forgotten. You changed my life, Len. I love you so much and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life showing you that.

Love, your husband,

Chris

 **To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Date sent: Tuesday, 2260.296

Dear Chris,

First off, happy birthday. I know you won't get this until a few days after it's over, but know that I was thinking of you. Well, I'm always thinking of you, but I'm wishing you a happy birthday even though I'm half a galaxy away.

About that elephant in the room - yeah, I could tell you were panicking. Not gonna lie, it didn't feel good, but, well, we've been there and done that before, so it wasn't as bad as it could've been. I feel like I'm learning how to roll with the punches when it comes to our ups and downs. Now of course I've gone and jinxed myself and something'll happen that I'm totally unprepared for. Damn it.

Anyway, I'm glad you're feeling better now, not having as many second thoughts. I want you to know I haven't regretted it for a second. Maybe I never thought I'd get married again after the divorce, but once we got serious, all bets were off. I've known for a long time now, darlin', that I wanted to be your husband. And it's only gonna get better from here, now that we're married. Now you're officially mine, and I'm yours, and I'm never letting you go, you hear me?

It does help to have someone to talk to. You might want to consider confiding in Philip, or maybe have another session with Dr. Rossen if you think that would help. I don't like to think of you struggling alone, darlin'.

Jesus, Chris, you're not half bad with the dirty talk yourself. I love the thought of you jerking your own cock, imagining it's my hands around you, while you're dictating a comm to me. God, the way your voice breaks when you come... fuck, baby, it's so hot. And yeah, of course I love the thought of you coming so hard that you shoot your load onto the vid screen. If I were there I'd lick it all up and feed it back to you in a dirty, wet kiss. Course, if I were there you'd be coming on me, or in me, not wasting it on a damn vid screen.

God damn, our wedding night was amazing. It couldn't have been more perfect. Me taking you out under the stars, and then saying our vows, and then you taking me over your desk, and again in your bed... it was incredible. Every single second of it. We were made for each other, Chris. I may not believe in much but I believe that. I hope you do too.

By the way, I know I should have said something earlier, but I just didn't know how to put it into words. I want to let you know how much it meant to me, when you showed me the tree you'd had planted in Joanna's honor, on her due date. It means more than I can say, that you remembered, and that you understand how important it is to me not to forget her, even though I never even got to meet her. I'm getting all choked up here so I'll stop, but just... thank you, Chris.

Crap, I'm late for my weekly self-defense lesson with Nyota. She's going to kick my ass especially hard today, because she hates it when I'm late. I better run.

I love you, 'til death do us part.

Always,  
Len

  



	50. The Eldest Oyster Looked at Him (Part 45 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuing correspondence of... yeah, you know the drill.

_**Trek Fic: The Eldest Oyster Looked at Him (Part 45 of To Talk of Many Things, NC-17, Pike/McCoy)**_  
 **Title:** The Eldest Oyster Looked at Him (Part 45 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Author:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** Around 3100  
 **Summary:** The continuing correspondence of... yeah, you know the drill.  
 **A/N:** from [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) and [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/): Four weeks in a row, go us! Woo! \o/

  


  
**Personal Journal of Christopher R. McCoy  
Thursday 2260.298**

Today is my 55th birthday. I’ll admit, typing that, acknowledging that is difficult. I woke up this morning to an inbox full of comms. After I read the one from the United Federation of Retired Persons offering me a honorary membership now that I was ‘of age,’ for all I’d done for the universe – Who the hell retires at 55 anymore? It’s not _old_ or even middle aged. Okay, I guess I have to admit that since the current human life expectancy for a male is 102 that it’s middle aged, but I still can’t believe they’ve held on to that archaic tradition from hundreds of years ago.

Needless to say, the only comm I opened after that was the one from Len. Of course even that ended up being a bad idea since it was a vid of him jacking off in his office. I had to turn it off once he reached in his pants and brought that glorious cock of his out and started stroking it as he told me about his day. Fuck it was hot, but I only had five minutes to make it to my ready room for my morning briefing. Not exactly a great way to start my birthday.

He surprises me sometimes, Len. Thinking about how far he’s come since I not only met him, but got to know him. When I spent time on Enterprise he would never let anything ‘improper’ happen in Medical Bay. Hell, he was uncomfortable even giving me a simple kiss hello or goodbye, grousing that impropriety didn’t belong in his Medical Bay. So to see him in his office, sitting behind his desk with his legs spread, uniform open and cock out – Fuck, I’m hard thinking about it again.

I’ve been thinking a lot today – I guess birthdays are good day for introspection. On one hand I feel incredibly lucky that I have a husband – And typing that still – I don’t know, I still can’t explain it. But I have a husband, wonderful friends and family, and my own ship. Yet I know from experience how easily it could all slip away and that never used to scare me as much as it does now. Maybe it’s from my own brush with death, maybe it’s because I’ve never had anyone that – Well, if I lost him, I’m really not sure if I’d survive that. And for me to readily admit that – It scares me half to death.

Not that I doubt Len’s love for me. God, I see it every time I look at him. I hear it in his voice. But Len is only 33 years old – Fuck. Typing that – He’s so young. I guess I’ll always worry that he’ll get tired of me – That being so much older than him – Well, that I won’t be able to keep up with him, make him happy. And I know it’s ridiculous for me to worry about that so much considering he’d told me - and I believed him - that even if my injuries had prevented us from never having sex again he didn’t care – Well, as much as we have sex, part of me doesn’t believe that’s true.

Factor in that on the shuttle home, Philip told me that he and Allen had split. They talked after my engagement party and they both simply want different things right now and neither of them seems to be willing to compromise. That problem has always been there with them, but now that the kids are all grown and gone – I guess that was the glue that was holding them together. Philip doesn’t seem too broken up about it. He’s more worried about the kids, but he and Allen are on good terms at least and they are good parents. Their split scares me because they’ve been together over thirty years and if they couldn’t work out the differences they had – Well, Len and I have a lot of issues too and what does that mean for us down the road? Especially since we won’t have any kids anytime soon.

Fuck, now I’m just depressing myself. Seeing Philip without his wedding ring. Hearing him talk about shore leave on Risa and boy the fun he’s going to have there. Apparently Allen is already seeing someone. Another doctor who is ten years older. Philip says it’s not what caused the split, but I can see the hurt in Philip’s eyes when he mentioned it. It’s not all Allen’s fault either. Philip is the first to point out he’s probably responsible for the split, but he just wasn’t ready to retire and stay on Earth.

The day wasn’t all bad. I walked on the bridge to a rendition of Happy Birthday from the crew. I watched vids from around the ship, different departments had sent greetings. My students decorated my ready room. We had birthday cake throughout the ship. I well could have done without all of it but it made the crew happy, and that’s what matters right now. Considering how strict I’ve been since I came back, I’m surprised they went to the trouble.

Well, I guess I better go through the rest of my comms. If I don’t answer the ones from my family today, I’ll get the third degree I’m sure. Then I’ll reward myself with a glass of wine from the bottle Jim sent and the peach cobbler that he and Len gave Philip to bring for me. Sneaky bastards. Apparently this peach cobbler and the birthday cake today will be my last indulgences. First think tomorrow Philip is implementing my new torture. God help us all.

I may save the vid from Len until tomorrow morning. I might need it to face the day.

 **To James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date sent: Friday 2260.299

Dear Jim,

First of all, thank you for the bottle of wine you sent for my birthday. I enjoyed a glass of it last night while I ate the peach cobbler Len sent. Also, the vid of the Enterprise bridge crew singing happy birthday was – Well, just thank you, Jim. It means a lot.

I don’t have a lot of time this morning, my new ‘Lifestyle Plan’ starts today and I have to be in medical soon for a physical and tests. I want you to know, though, how much you writing me – trusting me with things on your mind – Well, it means a lot, son.

I wish I had easy answers for you and I know you are frustrated with your hands tied by the orders you’ve been given. I will say this, though, you have some of the best instincts – No, you HAVE the best instincts I’ve ever seen in all my years in Starfleet. Trust them, but I know I don’t have to point out that half the Admiralty has it in for you and are just waiting for you to make a mistake. I don’t think it would go as far as stripping your command, but just --- Just be careful, Jim. You can’t do anything as daring as what you and Len did before. Plus, you know the Romulans have set their sights on the Enterprise – I’m not saying this simply because Len is aboard. I know he’s safer with you than he is with me, as hard as that is to admit.

You can’t always do the right thing, Jim. You can’t always save everyone. That’s the hardest thing to learn as a Starfleet Captain. The best advice I can give you is to get as much counsel from your command crew as you can and weigh it all carefully. I know you know this and it almost seems redundant for me to even type it out here, but I know the first couple of years I was Captain, I wish I’d had someone to remind me of that.

Trust your instincts, son. Just don’t let them hang you out to dry.

Love,

Chris

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy  
Wednesday 2260.304**

God damn, I'm black and blue all over, not to mention every muscle I've got is aching. Nyota really did a number on me yesterday. She said she's been pulling her punches, taking it easy on me, but she's not going to "coddle me" anymore, for my own good. I'm not buying it, though - she's tense and needed someone to take it out on, which is why I now feel like I've gone ten rounds with an enraged Ursinoid. I don't really blame her - the silence from the Klingons and the Romulans is setting everyone's teeth on edge. Plus she's trying to get pregnant and so her hormones are going crazy - I should know, I'm the one who used to prescribe her birth control hypos, and now that she's off them - whoa, Nelly. Not that I'd ever say anything about her mood where she might hear me. Woman's got ears like a bat.

Anyway, I am getting better at self-defense, so I guess that's something. Even better than that, spending so much time with Nyota, especially since we spend a fair portion of it wrestling around on the mats, makes Spock seriously cheesed off. Ha. Not that he'd ever admit it, repressed bastard that he is. He's got no cause for concern, anyway - Nyota's an incredible woman, but my affections are spoken for. 'Course Spock retaliates by getting all buddy-buddy with Jim, monopolizing his time during off-hours with games of chess or whatnot, shooting me that smug smirk when he "confirms" his meetings with Jim while I'm around. I don't know what Jim sees in him, but he seems to genuinely like the cold-blooded hobgoblin. Come to think of it, don't really know what Nyota sees in him either. Who'd want to spend their life with a walking computer?

Then again, I suppose there's a fair few of Chris's senior officers who wonder why I'm with him, given his hard-ass demeanor as Captain. Or vice versa, I suppose, some of the Enterprise crew might wonder why anyone would want to spend their life with a cantankerous asshole like me. Guess there's more to most people than meets the eye. Doesn't mean I'm interested in finding out what Spock's like in private. Perish the thought.

I hope Chris is calming down about the marriage. Good god, it feels strange to write that. We're married. We're actually married. I get a goofy grin on my face whenever I think about it, which has led to quite a few strange looks from patients and my staff in sickbay. Think Christine might've guessed - she's got that knowing gleam in her eye whenever she looks at me. But she's discreet enough not to say anything, so I'm not too worried.

Well, speaking of Christine, she'll be none too pleased if I'm late for my shift so I better go. Huh. Just occurred to me that between Nyota and Christine, I'm pretty much completely whipped. It would take a stronger man than I to argue with those two. Wonder who'd win a battle of wills with Christine and Nyota on one side, and Chris on the other? All I can say is I hope I never have to find out. Not sure the universe would survive.

 **To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Philip Boyce (pboyce@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Friday 2260.306

Dear Len,

Thought I’d let you know how the first week of Operation Obstinate Pike went, or as I’ll refer to it, OOP, in our weekly updates. There have been times this week where I’ve added a few colorful expletives to that description, but I don’t want to make it any longer than necessary. Just know that half the time I would probably say ‘Operation Obstinate God damn fucking recalcitrant asshole who doesn’t know what’s good for him Pike’ is a more apt description. He’s really turned into a five-year-old this week. He is questioning anything and everything and if I didn’t love the man so much, I’d strangle him.

I know it’s his way of dealing with the restrictions, but every meal I’ve gotten a comm that reads something like ‘Why must I have asparagus instead of artichokes?’ and if I substitute the artichokes the next time, I get a comm asking why he can’t have asparagus. If I give him a choice between three vegetables, he of course wants a fourth that isn’t listed. If this is only the first week, it is going to be a LONG six months. If this is his way of getting me to retire to ‘save’ my marriage, he may be onto something.

Speaking of my marriage, I’m not sure if Chris told you or not, I’m guessing not, but Allen and I have split. It’s been a long time coming and the last five years or so the only thing holding us together was the kids. I’m not going to expound on it further, but I thought you should know because I know it’s bothering Chris a lot. With your upcoming nuptials, I’m sure it’s sent him into a tailspin about getting married again and I want to apologize for that. So if he is more evasive about the ‘m subject’ as he refers to it, that’s why.

Otherwise, as you can see from the current test results, his WBC is unchanged after the first week, his blood pressure is up, and he is cranky as hell. Of course this was to be expected. He hasn’t let me sedate him either and I know he’s not getting as much sleep as he should. With the removal of caffeine, I’m hoping the sleep issue will remedy itself. Whether we will survive it, that’s another story. The Senior Bridge Crew have been supportive and understanding, but if he’s going to be like this the entire six months, there may be a mutiny.

I’m sorry I don’t have better news to report. I know you must be frustrated, but I think once he turns a corner and is feeling better, I’ll get more cooperation. I’m giving him another week before I comm Willa. I’ll save Kathleen for when I’m desperate.

Hope you are well. I know tensions are high right now, and that certainly isn’t helping Chris’s mood either. He pores over the reports from the Neutral Zone several times a day, but since the intel is usually days behind, it frustrates him as you can imagine. He never was good at staying out of the thick of things. I know they sent us out here to give Chris a chance to recover and in some ways I agree with that. In other ways, I think he’d do better being in his element and not mapping a bunch of dead space.

Stay safe,  
Philip

 **From: Willa Pike (willa.e.pike@googlemail.com)  
** To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Date sent: Saturday 2260.307

Dear Len:

I'm writing to you because that son of mine has been neatly avoiding answering any of my questions about wedding plans, when he responds to my comms at all. I figure that by writing to you, either a) you and I can just plan the wedding without his input, or b) he'll be so irritated that I'm bothering you that he'll respond to me in order to protect you. I like to think that some of Chris's strategic genius comes from my side of the family.

Speaking of family, I hope you know that you are now one of the family. I hope someday you'll feel comfortable enough to call me "mom," since I definitely count you as a son. But if not, that's fine - Willa will do. I'm making it my mission to get you to stop with the "ma'am," though - it makes me feel about a thousand years old!

I assume that you've heard by now that Allen and Philip have separated. I'm very sorry to hear it, both because they are good men and good friends to Chris and I want them to be happy, but also because along with my marriage to his father, I know that Chris has held up Philip and Allen's marriage as an example, a model, and, to some extent, "proof" that relationships can last. He's going to take it very hard that that his ideal of a marriage has failed. He may even try to push you away. I hope he doesn't, but I know my son, and it wouldn't surprise me a bit if he starts having doubts about the entire institution of marriage, and naturally he wouldn't actually _talk_ to the person most affected by his feelings. That boy of mine is stubborn. Good thing you are too.

On to more pleasant subjects. Kathleen and I wanted to get your input on the wedding colors. It will be an autumn wedding, so perhaps some autumnal colors would be appropriate - rust red, deep yellow, muted orange. Of course, those are colors that maybe only mother nature could get away with mixing. So perhaps we should stick with something more neutral. What do you think of cream and steel gray? It would be simple, elegant, and masculine. Of course, if you have any other ideas, let me know. This is your wedding too and I want you to be happy with it. Well, to a point. They do say a wedding is really for the parents, after all.

Please feel free to solicit Chris's input - in fact, I'm counting on it, since my strategy of flushing him out won't work unless he knows I'm comming you.

Take care of yourself, dear. I worry about both of my boys out there in the black.

Fondly,  
Willa

 **To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Richard Barnett (rbarnett@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Thursday 2260.312

_Priority One Alpha - Eyes Only_

Dear Chris,

On 2260.310 Starfleet Command lost communication with the USS Enterprise. She had not transmitted her automatic check in signal for twelve hours and all efforts to hail her over the last twenty-four hours have failed. The Reliant is currently en route to her last known location, and I will update you as soon as I receive any intel.

I’m sure they are fine, Chris. Communication has been sketchy at best recently at their last reported location. I don’t have to tell you these things, you know them, and the reasons they happen. But I also know that knowing these things as a Captain, and knowing them as man with someone he loves out there - Just don’t do anything rash, Chris. I hesitated even telling you, but I know that the intel will make it to you in the next day or two and I didn’t want you to find out like that.

I’ll keep you appraised. I promise.

Richard

  



	51. But answer came there none (Part 46 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuing correspondence of... yeah, you know the drill.

_**Trek Fic: But Answer Came There None (To Talk of Many Things Part 46, Pike/McCoy, PG-13)**_  
 **Title:** But answer came there none (Part 46 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Author:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** PG-13  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** Around 3200  
 **Summary:** The continuing correspondence of... yeah, you know the drill.  
 **A/N:** from [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) and [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/): We were both massively brain-dead from exhaustion when we finished this up, so please forgive any glaring errors.

  


  
**Personal Journal of Christopher R. McCoy Pike**  
Friday 2260.319

I feel like I’m losing my mind again. This time over the comm I got from Richard last week. You know when it comes through Priority Alpha that it’s not good news. But most of the time it’s a change in orders. Or the notification of a death of a family member of someone on board. Or in this case, that the ship my husband is on is missing in the Neutral Zone.

I haven’t been without a PADD in my hand since, anxiously waiting word. I know Len is alive because of our rings. I cannot fathom what shape I’d be in if we didn’t have these. Of course seeing it cycle though the colors that I know mean dire situations, stress, and worry – Well, let’s just say that it’s not helping my already elevated blood pressure. Add into the fact that it goes black whenever he has to remove it for surgery and those hours – Well, they aren’t very fun. I’ll admit I’ve had it turned so I can’t see the stone, and I settle for just being able to run my thumb across the stone. Somehow that has always made me feel closer to him.

I’m not sure what else to say right now. I’ve sat here every day for a week and haven’t been able to write anything. All I can think about is Len and yes, I’m even thinking about Jim and what if something happens to them?

Adapting to my new diet and regimen is harder than I thought it would be. I know I’m not being as cooperative as I should be either. Half the time I don’t even believe the words coming out of my mouth, but I can’t seem to stop it. Philip has been understanding so far – He knew what he was getting himself into. I know he’s getting close to his breaking point though and I need to snap out of this. Given the current situation though – The waiting. God, I’m such a selfish asshole.

Philip has enough to worry about. His marriage is over. I haven’t even begun to come to grips with that. I think what’s bothering me the most is that he seems indifferent to it and the fact that Allen is already seeing someone. I guess it reminds me of how I felt and acted during my divorce from Lisa. I guess I just expected more – They’ve been together for thirty four years. Married for thirty two. How does it get so bad that after all that time – I just don’t understand. It scares me if I’m going to be brutally honest here. If they couldn’t make it, so well suited for each other, and together so long, what does that mean for Len and I, who, to borrow Jim’s favorite word, are a giant clusterfuck of problems and issues.

My mother and grandmother are comming me daily with questions and suggestions for the wedding and frankly I’m about ready to tell them we already got married so it will stop. I already told both of them that it didn’t matter to me. Someone told me once when I was younger that a wedding was really more for family and friends than those getting married. I didn’t believe or understand that at the time, but maybe I do now. To me, the way Len and I got married was perfect. It was just us. Yes, I’m still adjusting to the knowledge that I’m married. Watching Philip flirt with people on the ship now -- _flirt_ \-- is certainly not helping.

God, one minute I’m ‘What was I thinking?’ marrying someone in Starfleet and then next I’m so damn happy that I married him on shore leave – Well, in case something happens. His ring is black again. Means he's not wearing it, or else - well, I'm not even going to think about that. It's been black for four hours now. I know some surgeries can take a long time – Hell, he worked on me for almost thirty hours after Narada. I _know_ this and I am arrogant enough to believe that if something truly happened to him that I’d know. I’d just _know_. But the truth is, and fuck this is hard to admit, I’m not sure I would.

I’ve never needed to go for a run so badly. But I am restricted. I guess I’d better go swim laps. It’s going to be a long night until the color on the ring changes. If it changes.

Fuck.

 **To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Richard Barnett (rbarnett@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Sunday 2260.321

_Priority One Alpha - Eyes Only_

Dear Chris,

Enterprise made contact at 0100 this morning and all is well crew wise and ship wise. I’ve been in meetings ever since contact was received. Your boy Kirk is in trouble, Chris. I will do all I can, but I’m not sure if we’ve secured enough support for him if it comes down to a vote.

I’ll forward any reports I receive as soon as they are read into record. I’m sure you’ll be hearing from them soon.

Take care of yourself,

Richard

 **To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
** From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Sunday 2260.321

Dear Chris,

First of all, we’re fine. We’re all okay. Bones is sitting right next to me, he actually hasn’t let me out of his sight since he released me from medical bay a couple of hours ago. He’s working on the medical reports and I’m sure he’ll be writing you as soon as he’s done. Starfleet is just on our ass about getting them all sent immediately. Lucky me gets to have a vidcomm with the Admirals in a couple hours for the Spanish Inquisition I’m sure. Bones isn’t happy about it, doesn’t think I’m up to it, but if I’m going down, I want to get it over with.

You’ll get a copy of the official report that Spock has compiled from the last two weeks, but the gist is this: Starfleet wouldn’t authorize a comm pod to confirm what I suspected. I took Enterprise as close to the edge of the neutral zone as regs allow. What I did do and it's one of two things that I know I’m going to pay for, was cut off all communication arrays and all unnecessary power before I got there so we could be undetected for as long as possible. Even Spock couldn’t argue the logic. We _knew_ they were there. And the _they_ ended up being four Romulan Warbirds.

My only mistake was hesitating to engage them sooner. They were able to destroy one of the six cargo ships, and severely damage another. They never fired on the Enterprise, and as you know, we’re under orders not to fire or engage unless fired upon. But I couldn’t just sit there helpless after the first ship was destroyed. So I entered the neutral zone and engaged. We took out one, heavily damaged two, and the fourth self-destructed along with the damaged two after refusing to surrender and retreat.

Then there was my biggest mistake, and for this, I have no excuses. I knew better… I beamed to one of the damaged cargo ships with a medical team, security force, engineers, and disaster pods to assist in any way we could. We found out that not only were they cargo ships, but a couple had refugees on board and when I heard that… Well, I’ll just say it. They were rescued from a famine stricken planet where hundreds had perished. Bones didn’t know this when I left, he stayed behind to ready medical bay for incoming.

Even though I had communications constantly scanning and Enterprise was still on red alert, we still missed a fifth cloaked ship. It de-cloaked and went after the cargo ship I was on. They knew I was there. Or at least they knew an Enterprise team was there and they took advantage. I was on the bridge of the cargo ship when they de-cloaked and fired, and the next thing I remember is waking up in medical bay this morning. The ship I was on was destroyed within minutes of me being transported out. Our away teams were safely beamed aboard, and we were able to get about thirty-five souls off the ship before the rest perished. Over four hundred of them. I’m sick to my stomach just typing this and from the look Bones keeps giving me, I think he’s about ready to sedate me until I face the firing squad.

Miraculously, we didn’t lose anyone on the Enterprise. The Romulans never fired on us, not even the fifth one. They destroyed the cargo ship, and after the Enterprise knocked out its reactor, it self-destructed like the others. What a fucking waste. I will never understand the ‘honor’ of that.

I haven’t had much time to think about everything. I’m still groggy and in pain, but I’m okay. I just finished reading the report Spock submitted, but I don’t regret anything I did. If they hang me out to dry for this… I’m ready to face it. I don’t really know what I could have done differently. Starfleet wouldn’t listen and I couldn’t just let all those ships be destroyed, which totally would have happened if we hadn’t been there. Six ships. Tons of cargo. 1500 souls in total. What was I supposed to do?

Speaking of pain, your husband just growled at me that I better not be just telling you I’m ‘fine’ or I wouldn’t need to worry about the vidcomm with the Admirals and their firing squad 'cause it would be _him_ doing the firing. Of course I answered that then he’d just have to fix me up again and ruin the seven hours of surgery... Shit, the look he just gave me and words mumbled under his breath. Fuck, he’s grouchy. Anyway, he told me he wasn’t going to be the one to give you the post mortem of my injuries this time and to give it to you straight and he just stomped back off to Medical Bay. I’m glad actually. He’s been hovering all day, and I get it, I really do, but it just makes me feel worse to know how much I’ve worried him again.

As I said I was on the bridge when the Romulans attacked. It was a direct hit. Over half of the bridge crew perished. To put it mildly, I got blown up. Tossed across the bridge into a panel twenty feet away. Brain bleed, broken bones, burns... I did a first rate job of giving Bones a heart attack again. Yeah, he spent seven hours getting me back together and I was out for a day and woke up this morning and fuck I still hurt all over. Don’t tell Bones that, okay? I still need some more skin grafts and regeneration on my arm and back, but Bones said I’ll be good as new in a week. Physically anyway.

Shit. I don’t know, Chris. I’m sorry if you are disappointed in me, but I really thought I was doing the right thing. I need to sign off and rest before my vidcomm. Bones and Spock are going to be present, so I’m sure he will fill you in if they have me thrown into the brig after.

Jim

 **To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Sunday 2260.321

  
Dear Chris,

I'm fine. Really, I promise. I know you're panicking right now, so I just wanted to send you a comm to let you know everything's okay. Well, sort of okay. Okay with me anyway.

Sorry to be cryptic but I've got to go. My sickbay's overflowing and I've got to keep an eye on Jim as well - he's off active duty and at loose ends and you know how he gets when that happens. I'll write more later.

I love you.

Always,  
Len

  
**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy  
Sunday 2260.321**

Well, shit. Another day, another disaster. This time Jim's in trouble, and I really don't know what's going to happen. He could lose his command over this.

He's in his quarters now, getting ready for a vid conference with some of the Admirals. Me and Spock apparently are going to sit in - I'm not sure why. Moral support for Jim? Witnesses for when they crucify him? Well, hopefully I'm exaggerating. Still, they're gonna be out for blood - at least some of them are. Jim's always been a lightning rod and this is no exception.

I don't even know if what he did was the right decision. I haven't told him that, of course, but... Well, I just hope he didn't kick off a war with the Romulans. God knows how many lives would be destroyed if that happened.

Jim seems pretty confident, though, that the Empire will deny all involvement and claim that this was just a few rogue pirates. I just hope he's right. Spock did back him, and much as I can't stand the sanctimonious asshole, he's cautious to the point of being lily-livered when it comes to breaking rules, so if he agreed to Jim's crazy plan, well, I gotta hope that means something.

Then, of course, there's what this is going to do to Chris. I know he was having second thoughts about our marriage, and then with Philip and Allen splitting all those doubts would be doubled, and now... well, I'm sure Chris was worried when we dropped out of communication. Jim wouldn't let me send a warning comm to Chris - said if it was intercepted it would ruin the element of surprise. I know he was right, but damn it, I can't stand that Chris went through that worry and that I let it happen when I could have done something to prevent it.

Anyway, my point was that he's going to be absolutely going crazy right now, and I half expect him to decide that the solution to all his problems is to be rid of me altogether. He wouldn't have to worry about me, wouldn't have to worry about our relationship... from his perspective life would be a hell of a lot easier without me around.

Maybe it won't turn out like I think, and hell, I know I shouldn't borrow trouble - there's no point worrying about it right now. But I can't help it. Don't think there's anything I could do or say that would make a bit of damn difference to Chris's decision anyway - these are demons he's got to conquer himself. If I somehow sweet-talked or bullied him into staying with me, it wouldn't end well. We'd end up hating each other, most likely. I'd rather let him go than risk that.

And anyway Jim's going to need all my emotional support, such as it is, for the foreseeable future. Because of the famine survivors we rescued, I mean - the shape they were in when they beamed aboard. Shit, it was horrific. Got most of 'em in sickbay now, we're doing all we can to pull them through, but I don't think we'll be able to save them all.

I know this has been bringing up the specter of Tarsus IV for Jim, and that makes this all the more personal for him. Neither of us talked about it, but then we've never needed to discuss shit like that. We both knew that with his history this was going to be an issue.

For now he's holding it together, but I don't know how long that'll last. Suppose it depends partly on how this vid conference goes. Speaking of which, I'd better go get ready. Can't be late - gotta be there for Jim.

 **To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Monday 2260.322

Dear Chris,

God, I feel wrung out. And it wasn't even me who was on the hot seat.

Sorry, backing up. I think Jim told you that he had to have a vidcomm with the brass. Well, me and Spock sat in on it - Spock, I get, he's second in command. Me, I got no clue why I was there; they never asked me a single damn question. Anyway, they chewed Jim up one side and down the other. Gotta hand it to him, he kept his cool, even though I could see it was touch and go there for a while.

I have to say it was impressive, Jim being all captainly and Spock smoothly interjecting every now and then to quote statistics about why Jim's decision was the only logical one. I was watching the faces of the admirals, seeing if I could figure out what they were thinking. Bunch of poker-faced bastards. I think Jim and Spock had some of them convinced by the end, but... I don't know if it'll be enough. They "adjourned" so they could "deliberate" about how to deal with the whole thing. What a bunch of horse's asses.

By now you've probably read the official reports, and I know Jim wrote to you too, so I won't rehash it. We were lucky, Chris. So goddamn lucky. One Federation ship, trying to defend six cargo ships against five Romulan warbirds? I can hardly believe we're still alive.

I think most all of the crew feels like that. Everyone's still on edge, like they don't really believe we got away clean, like five more Romulan ships are going to decloak around us at any second. Wouldn't surprise me too much, actually.

I miss you. God damn, times like this I just wish you were nearby so I could relax in your arms, have you tell me everything's going to be all right. Sounds foolish to put it down in words, but it's true.

I'm sorry to hear about Philip and Allen splitting. I know how much they mean to you, and I think I might have an inkling of what their relationship meant to you too. I mean, as proof that marriages can last, or something like that. So I'm guessing you're probably all tied up in knots about that right now. I don't know if there's anything I can do to help, but please, if there is, let me know. And if there's anything I can do to help Philip or Allen, let me know that too. Well, one thing I can do is tell you to take it easy on Philip. He's got to be hurting right now, even if he doesn't show it. And I know you, darlin', I know you well enough to know that right now you're chafing at the restrictions he's putting on you. I get why, I really do, but just... well, like I said, take it easy on him a little. If you can.

I gotta get back to sickbay - we're all pulling double shifts to try to cover the patient load. We're not equipped to handle the number of refugees we've got, but then we made do with less equipment, and more patients, after the Narada, so I suppose we'll muddle through somehow.

Take care of yourself, baby. I miss you so much it hurts.

Love,  
Len

  



	52. The Butter's Spread Too Thick (Part 47 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuing correspondence of... yeah, you know the drill.

_**Trek Fic: The Butter's Spread Too Thick (TTOMT Part 47, Pike/McCoy, NC-17)**_  
 **Title:** The Butter's Spread Too Thick (Part 47 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Author:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** Around 3200  
 **Summary:** The continuing correspondence of... yeah, you know the drill.

  


  
**To: Philip Boyce (pboyce@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Wednesday 2260.324

Dear Philip:

I'm awfully sorry to hear about your split from Allen. It seemed like you didn't want to talk about it, so I won't pry, but I went through a pretty hellish divorce myself, so if you ever need to talk about it - or, well, write to someone about it, I'm here, all right?

I'm sure you've caught wind of some of what's being going on with the Enterprise. I'm not sure if it's supposed to be hush-hush or not, so I won't go into details, but I'm sure it's got Chris climbing the walls. I'm hoping you can keep him from losing it completely.

Promise me you won't let him push you away, all right? And I feel guilty as hell putting this on you, because I know you've got enough to deal with already, but I know he's going to need your support.

Don't let him quit the new regimen, or try to "postpone" it, just because things are tough right now. Things are always tough. Sometimes it seems like it's one damn thing after another with no time to breathe between 'em.

I guess we just have to hold on and hope like hell that things get better.

And on that cheerful note, I'll sign off.

Take care,  
Len

 **To: Willa Pike (willa.e.pike@googlemail.com)  
** From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Wednesday 2260.324 

  
Dear Willa,

Thanks for your comm. I don't know how much of the news has reached earth, but the Enterprise just had a run-in, I guess you could say, with some Romulan warbirds. We're all fine, but as you can imagine, we're all pretty unsettled, and no one's sure what's going to happen next. I'm not even sure I should be telling you this but between the encryption that Jim said he'd put on this, and your husband's diplomatic connections, somehow I think it won't be a problem.

Speaking of Jim, he's having a rough time. He's in deep trouble over his decision to engage the Romulans. We don't know what his punishment is going to be, and even though he tries to cover it up, I can tell he's worried. And aside from that, something that happened during that fight brought up a lot of painful memories from Jim's childhood. I shouldn't say anything more than that, because it's not my secret to reveal, but the upshot is that Jim's really hurting right now.

I know Chris is too, from what you told me, and I heard it from Philip as well - that he'll probably be panicking about the entire idea of marriage right now, given Philip and Allen's split. And I'm sure having me disappear for a while, not knowing if I was all right or not, must have just added to his conviction that close relationships aren't worth the risk.

I apologize, ma'am - I meant to write you back about your questions about the wedding, and instead I ended up unloading all my worries on you. I'm tempted to erase this comm and not send it, but... I guess maybe it's a bit of a relief to be able to vent to someone.

I really don't have a preference for wedding colors. Heck, I don't really have much of an opinion about the wedding in general, except for the groom. I promise I'll mention to Chris that you've been writing to me about the wedding, though, in case it gets him to write back to you. You're a devious woman, Willa Pike.

Please give my regards to Mr. Pike.

Sincerely,  
Leonard

 **To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date sent: Saturday 2260.327

Hi Baby,

I love you so much, Leonard McCoy. Don’t ever do that to me again. Part of me wants to wring Jim’s neck for cutting off communications, but the other part knows he did exactly what he needed to do to keep you safe -- Keep you all safe. And he did. Against all odds, but once again to the detriment of himself.

I don’t even know what to say right now. There is so much to say about Jim and the shit storm that is coming, but I think I need to get some things off my mind first. From the time I got Richard’s first comm when you ‘disappeared’ to the time nine days later when I got word you guys were okay... I honestly don’t know how I made it. Especially when your ring would go black at times. There is always a moment of panic when that happens. I know you have to take it off when you perform surgery and such. I _know_ this. Doesn’t make it any easier.

Fuck, Len. I feel terrible for some of the thoughts that I had during those nine days. I was furious at Jim. I was even more furious at you. As a Starfleet Captain, I understand. I do. As a husband, and yes, I typed _husband_ , Len, I was absolutely terrified of losing you. These feelings are still new to me. Being afraid of losing someone I love, loving someone _so damn much_ that I can’t imagine living without that any more - I don’t know how to deal with that. It makes me feel weak.

And I know you, Leonard McCoy. I know you probably had in your mind that I am still having second thoughts about marrying you . That I regret it. That something like this happening would make it easy for me to walk away. Well, listen to me right now and imagine my intimidating captain’s voice.

I love you. I couldn’t leave you or walk away from you if I wanted to. And I _don’t_ want to. If anything, this incident has reminded me even more how much I love you. How much I _need_ you in my life. How much it’s worth all the stuff we’ve been through and the all the trials that are to come. I don’t regret marrying you, Len. I’m so damn grateful we married before we parted because if something had happened to you – Happened to either one of us. I don’t know how to explain and I’m struggling to find every single one of these words, baby. I just like knowing that you’re _mine_ , and that I am _yours_. And if I were to die now, I would have no regrets. None.

God, I had to take a few minutes to pull myself together. What I feel for you is so overwhelming sometimes – I wish you knew, Len. I hope in some ways that you do. There is more I should say, and I promise I will. I just need to get some sleep. I know what you mean by wrung out. I wish I was there to pull you into my arms and hold you. I think we’d actually be holding onto each other, because right now I think I need it as much as you do. And after everything you’ve been through the last couple of weeks, that makes me feel like the selfish asshole I’ve always been.

That’s just how much I need you, baby. Don’t doubt that. I’ll write more soon.

I love you, Len.

Your husband,

Chris

 **To: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Monday 2260.329 

Dear Jim,

I’m sorry, son, that I haven’t written you sooner. I’ve run such a gamut of emotions the last week that I wanted to work my way through them before I did. It would have been easy to lash out at you. It would have probably made me feel better, but I knew it ruin the strides we’ve made in the last few months in our relationship.

I know you aren’t in a good place right now, and I wish that somehow I could take some of the weight off of your shoulders. Yes, you made a mistake, but we all do. You don’t deserve the scrutiny you are under. I’ve done far worse at various times in my career. Being a Starfleet Captain is all about judgment and intuition and you have the latter in spades. The former is only gained by experience and, frankly, learning from the mistakes you made so you don’t make them again.

I hope you know that I’m doing everything I can to help you, Jim. I have called in just about every favor, written comms on your behalf, and may have possibly made a few threats, but you didn’t hear that from me. And honestly, while I don’t agree with everything you did, after reading the reports – They tied your hands purposely, Jim. I know it and I hope you know it. You did the right thing, son. Yes, you broke regs and you’ll have to suffer the consequences. But you saved countless lives, valuable and much-needed cargo, made a stand for Starfleet against the Romulans who I like to refer to as the biggest bullies in space.

That said, what the fuck where you thinking engaging four Romulan warbirds? Do you have any idea what they could have done to you, the Enterprise, and _Len_ if they had actually attacked – Fuck, Jim. Two warbirds have taken down a c-class ship before. My nightmares are full of ‘what if’s’ and ‘could have beens’ this week thanks to you. Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m trying to keep emotion out of this comm. I’m trying to be as supportive as I can be, but that’s nearly impossible for me to do.

I will say this if it makes you feel any better. I’ve pored over the intel and logs you made prior to your decision and I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing you did. I might have sent a coded message to the Reliant to pass on to command, but I also understand why you didn’t. I also can’t say that I wouldn’t have entered the Neutral Zone either. I could not have stood by and watched those ships be destroyed any more than you could. I would be ashamed of any captain that would – And believe me, there are captains who would have done nothing.

I don’t know what else to say right now. Just know that I’m thinking about you and you have my support no matter what happens.

I love you, son. Take care of yourself.  
Chris

  
 **To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date sent: Monday 2260.329

Dear Len,

I just wrote to Jim and it was one of the hardest comms I’ve ever sent. It was incredibly difficult not to lash out, and I may have somewhat, but the bottom line is I told him he has my full support and I hope you know I have been doing everything I can to help him. You might doubt that after the way I’ve acted at times, but I’ve called in every favor owed me and even some I’m not to try to reason with those out to get him. I’m not sure it’s going to be favorable. I think you need to know that.

I’m doing better. Really. Yes, I’m giving Philip a hard time and I know you asked me to go easy on him, but believe me, if I were to change the way I was acting, it would be worse. I’m trying to keep the way we interact the same. I know he’s hurting even though he acts completely otherwise. He’s acting like he’s won the lottery of being ‘free’ and I won’t be surprised if there is a fancy convertible hovercar sitting at his house next time we’re on Earth. He even dyed all the gray out of his hair, and is sporting a much shorter haircut. I have to admit he looks ten years younger, but he’s acting half his age. Or heck, probably worse. Don’t get me started.

I also have to admit I’m somewhat embarrassed by the last comm I sent. I re-read it earlier as I couldn’t remember what I’d brought up – And before you go off worrying about my memory, I’m fine, Len. Just stressed, tired and worried. I’m fine. Embarrassed or not, I meant every word of that comm. I’m happy to be married to you. I’ve even started writing my name as ‘McCoy’ in my personal non-Starfleet logs. The first time, I did it without thinking. Now I type them all as Christopher R. McCoy Pike. That’s me, and I’m damn proud of it.

I’m sorry my mother is bothering you about the wedding plans. I’ve been avoiding her, to tell you the truth. She prefers that I send her vid comms, so she can ‘see’ me, and since she’s my mother – Well, she’d know I was not being forthcoming about our wedding. I hadn’t considered that when we married, so I just need some time to frankly, figure out how to lie to my mother. Since Jim doesn’t believe in no-win scenarios, maybe he can figure out a way to get me out of the mess I’m in. Fuck.

By the way, my cousin who performed our wedding has invited us to stay at his bed and breakfast near the family winery next time we have shore leave on earth and a few days to spare. He knows it may be awhile, but I’d love to take you there – Show you where my family came from. I spent some time there when I was young and have nothing but good memories of my time there. We have the rest of our lives to accept the invitation and I can’t tell you how good that makes me feel.

While I have no interest in wedding plans, I have been thinking a lot about our honeymoon since there is no way I’m counting the short time we had. Since we’ll be on Risa together in a few months, I’m already looking for a private villa somewhere near the water. Preferably on one of their numerous man-made islands. I know they have several that only have one villa and we’d be completely alone. No staff. Everything you need is transported in or already stocked. We could walk around the island naked and do whatever we want. How does that sound? It sounds glorious to me – The thought of having you naked for six days straight and all to myself. Jesus, what you do to me.

Makes me want to plan our Earth honeymoon somewhere tropical and private too. I can see you, rain coming down, us walking around naked. Your skin wet, watching your muscles ripple as you walk, drops of water sliding down your ass. I’d probably stop right there and start licking them off, working my way to your hole. Then I’d open you up with my tongue and lean you against a tree and fuck you right there with the rain pouring down on us, cooling us off when inside we are both burning for each other. What do you think of that, baby? Can I do that for you? Can I plan that type of honeymoon?

Fuck, Now I have myself so hard. I’m going to take a shower and imagine that, wrap my hand around my cock and wish it was your tight ass. I’ll be coming with your name on my lips, baby. Always.

Fuck I miss you. Keep yourself safe, baby. I love you.

Chris

  
**Personal Journal of Christopher R. McCoy Pike  
Monday 2260.329**

I’ve been avoiding writing here. It’s easier to pretend I’m not having the feelings I am. To Jim, Philip, and Len I’m being the perfect mentor, supportive best friend, and perfect husband. I’m doing and saying all the right things, but if any of them knew the truth, knew what I was really thinking and feeling... Just fuck.

Let’s start with Philip. This divorce has really changed him. Maybe I was in denial and it has been a long time coming, but I really thought they’d work it out. To hear that Allen has already moved out of their home – He bought a place nearby, and he’s seeing someone else, when they haven’t even filed for divorce. Maybe I’m old fashioned, but neither of them are acting like the people I’ve known and loved for over thirty five years. I want to slap some sense into both of them. To make it worse, Philip is fucking Sato. _Sato_. A woman at that. I never even knew Philip liked women. Every time I ask the computer to locate one of them, they are in each other’s quarters. Or Philip’s office. I shudder to think about the latter.

Next there is Jim. While everything I wrote in my comm is true, I’m still furious. I’m actually cycling through so many emotions I can’t even recognize half of them. And this is where I become the first rate asshole that most people think I am – I’m glad he screwed up. He needed to be knocked down a peg or two. Doesn’t mean I think he deserves what may happen to him, but part of me is – Fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever used this word before, but gleeful sums it up pretty damn well.

Which brings me to Len. There is part of me that is even mad at him for not finding a way to contact me. I _know_ Jim would have found a way to let him send a comm if he had insisted, but he didn’t. He went along with Jim as always with little thought. And yes part of me knows it’s not that simple, but it hurts to know that he’d follow Jim so blindly like that. _Does_ follow Jim like that. And I know he wouldn’t follow me that blindly.

So here I am. I can’t tell anyone how I’m feeling. I certainly can’t tell my husband “I hope Jim loses his Captaincy over this so I can send Philip home to save his damn marriage and bring you over to the Exeter to replace him so I finally have you all to myself.” I’m sure that would go over really well.

I’m just fucked.

  



	53. The Walrus Did Beseech (Part 48 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuing correspondence of... yeah, you know the drill.

_**Trek Fic: The Walrus Did Beseech (Part 48 of TTOMT, Pike/McCoy, NC-17)**_  
 **Title:** The Walrus Did Beseech (Part 48 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Author:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** Around 3500  
 **Summary:** The continuing correspondence of... yeah, you know the drill.

  


**To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Philip Boyce (pboyce@starfleet.gov)  
Date sent: Saturday 2260.334 

Dear Leonard,

Thank you for your kind words about my divorce. It really has been a long time coming despite what Chris thinks. I’m fine actually. In some ways it’s a relief that it’s over. We have both wanted different things for about ten years now. And I know Chris thinks that there should be some magical compromise, but the simple fact is there’s not. I was not happy on Earth. I belong in the stars as much as Chris does. Allen on the other hand likes his feet set firmly on the ground. Always has. He never minded being on another planet for awhile or a space station, but he’s never liked ship life. He was happiest on Earth and now he can have that. We can both have what we want without the guilt if that makes sense.

Now, don’t let this scare you like I know it is scaring Chris to death right now. I’m sure he’s got in his head that since you are the same way, you like your feet planted on the ground, that it’s inevitable for the same to happen to you two. I tried to discuss it with him last week and he’s just not ready to listen. I half expect him at some point to _order_ me back to Earth to ‘save my goddamn marriage’ as he so kindly ‘drops’ in our conversations as often as he can. He also didn’t like when I turned the tables on him and asked him if he’d resign and stay on Earth never to leave again if you asked him to. He was not happy when I said that. In fact we had quite a fight that ended with him storming out of my quarters. I felt bad about it later and we talked. He told me that you would never ask him to do that, and he’s probably right. The problem is, Allen did. In fact Allen gave me an ultimatum that I had to stay or it was over.

Despite what Chris thinks, it wasn’t an easy decision. I do love Allen. I will always love him. We raised four amazing children together and we had a good life, but neither of us wants that same life again. I don’t know if Chris ever told you this or not, but I would have agreed to stay on Earth, not go with Chris on the Exeter if we could have more children. I always wanted more kids. Allen didn’t. He was done. I tried to compromise, and maybe that wasn’t entirely fair. But I also know I wouldn’t have been happy on Earth. The kids made me happy being there, and maybe that shows that there was just something fundamentally wrong with our relationship in the first place if I wasn’t happy just with him. I don’t know.

You and Chris are not the same as Allen and I. For one thing, you have the age difference working in your favor. Chris will be ready to settle down on Earth and despite what you may fear, he’ll be happy. He’ll be _ready_ after another tour on the Exeter. Heck, in another tour or three tours I’m sure I'll be ready to retire, but not yet. Not when I finally have the freedom to stay on a ship now that my kids are grown and happy. Ten or fifteen years is a long time to be miserable in a marriage where two people want entirely different things. It wasn’t fair for either of us to keep holding on. It really is for the best.

I’m sure Chris isn’t too happy about the company I am keeping either. Or the plans I’ve made for Risa. The other day he asked me if I was a ‘pod person’ and I told him he was watching too many classic movies. I know your divorce was very different than mine will be, but I’m sure you can understand that you are never the same person after. Nor are you ever the same with any new relationship. Maybe it is part of a mid-life crisis, I’m not blind to that. I know it will take time for Chris to see that this is really for the best. Again, I am just sorry this is has set him into such an emotional tailspin when you two are so close to getting married. For that, I am truly, truly sorry, Len.

Now that I’ve talked your ear off, I will move on to other subjects. Let’s start with Chris’s new regimen. Surprisingly this hasn’t thrown him off of that. In fact he seems more focused. He’s still butting heads with me and pushing boundaries, but if he wasn’t I’d be worried about him. He’s exercising more than I would like, but I’m letting it slide because I know that’s how he’s dealing with the stress of everything. I know he needs it. So I just added an extra vitamin booster at his checkup each week and extra carb and protein to his meal plan to compensate. He hasn’t even noticed. He’s right on track. By the time you see him on Risa he should be almost completely off the immuno-suppresant drugs. Now, if he can just quit picking up bugs here and there in the meantime. He has a bit of a cold again, nothing as bad as the previous ones. I can tell the difference in the way his body is fighting it already. That’s a good sign. A very good sign indeed.

I also want to mention that Jim has my full support. I have done what I could in the Admirals’ meetings I’ve been privy to. It’s a shame what they are doing to that boy. He doesn’t deserve it and while I’ve been embroiled in Starfleet politics my entire career, I have never seen so many have such disdain for someone that in all honesty they don’t even know. It truly is unfair.

Well, I have prattled on enough. I hope you had a good Thanksgiving despite everything going on. We had a lovely feast in the Officer’s dining room. Chris cooked, which always makes him immensely happy. I know he was missing you, and is worried about you and Jim. I will keep doing my best to keep him on a steady path.

Thanks for listening, Leonard. It really does help.

Philip

  
 **To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
** From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Monday 2260.336 

Dear Chris,

As I’m sure you already know, I’m still waiting for a decision from Starfleet. The more time that passes... Well, let’s just say I’m not feeling very positive about the outcome right now. I’ve been in touch daily with Admiral Barnett, and I can tell by the look on his face that nothing good is happening. It’s been nice talking him with every day, having his support. He tells it like it is but he’s kind of like you in some ways with his philosophy on what’s important and what’s not. I bet he was a rule-breaker just like you were. You’ll have to let me in on some of his exploits so I have something to bring up in the little chats we’ve been having. That is, if I’m still around to have them.

The worst part of all of this… Well, it’s seeing the disappointment on Bones’ face. He won’t tell me he is disappointed of course. He’s been nothing but supportive. Sticking to me like glue. Fussing and bitching at me like always. Trying to make it seem like nothing is going on. He doesn’t know what to do for me. Hell, I don’t even know what to do for me. I just don’t know.

I sat with one of the refugees the day after I woke up. Bones hadn’t cleared me medically yet and I was banned from the bridge by the brass. I was going crazy sitting in my quarters. I wanted to see, needed to see some of the people we’d managed to save. I walked up to the biobed of this tiny little girl. No name. No one with her. Totally alone. Bones says she was about five years old, but she only weighed as much as a two-year-old. She these big brown eyes. Eyes that looked like they were a hundred years old with everything they had seen. Four hours later Bones tried to get me to leave her. Told me I didn’t need to torture myself that way. He knows what that look is from. He and I both know what starvation does to the body, the eyes. I saw so many eyes on Tarsus that looked like that. Watched the life slowly drain out of them.

That night I watched the life slowly drain out of her. There was nothing Bones could do for her. She had been in multiple organ failure since she was brought onboard. I know Bones tried valiantly to save her for me. Not that it was just for me, but he knew how it was affecting me. I think he thought If he could save her, then maybe he could save me from this mess too somehow.

I finally had to pull him away from her. She looked so scared. I didn’t want her to die like that. I had to yell at him to leave her alone. To let her go. I picked her up and leaned up against the wall, slowly sliding down with her in my arms until I was sitting against the wall on the floor. I held her against me. Rocked her back and forth. Soothed her. Christine stood there a moment, tears running down her face and then she cleared the area and pulled the curtain around us. Bones was breathing hard, eyes wild. He finally threw the gloves on the table and stomped out. A few seconds later he was bellowing at someone as he moved on to the next patient.

Sometime in the middle of the night, I felt her last breath against my neck. Felt her go limp. Felt the life drain out of her. In some ways I felt the life drain out of me too. Like everything was over. I knew I’d screwed up. Knew I’d given the Admirals the ammunition they’ve been waiting for. At the time, I almost didn’t care.

I sat with that little girl in my arms for I don’t even know how long. At some point Bones came back. The rest is a bit fuzzy. He told me later that I wouldn’t let him take her from me. That I insisted on carrying her to the morgue. Insisted she be wrapped in a blanket so she wasn’t cold anymore. She was so cold, Chris.

He sedated me after that. I woke up in my bed in my quarters that afternoon. I found Bones on my couch looking wrecked. Absolutely wrecked. I asked him how many, and he said ‘twelve more’ without even looking at me. So I did what I always do when he’s had a rough day. I went and sat next to him, our shoulders touching. He does the same for me. Sometimes we have a drink in our hands. Sometimes we don’t. And we just sit there. Silently. We both know nothing we can say to each other is going to make anything better. It’s just the fact that we are there together. Anchoring each other somehow. But the truth is that not only is he my anchor, he’s my rudder in the storm. Always guiding me out of whatever mess, whatever dark place I’m in. He’d probably say I’m the anchor around his neck dragging him under, but he’d say it with that sly grin on his face.

What scares me the most about this, Chris, is if they revoke my command, take me off the Enterprise, what’s going to happen to Bones when I’m not here? Who’s going to sit on that couch with him? Who’s going to make sure he eats and gets enough sleep? We’ve taken care of each other for over five years now. It’s second nature. Or as he puts it, ‘we’re goddamn co-dependent’. I know I’ll be okay. I’m used to being alone. I can get used to that again. I’m not sure if Bones can. I know you don’t like this, but he needs me. He needs you too, and I don’t know how to explain us. And shit, this is probably pissing you off. But I promised I wouldn’t hide anything. But I’m going to shut up now.

So that’s where I’m at. No where. Still waiting for word. I’m back on light duty, but still in a lot of pain. The burns aren’t healing like they should and Bones is bitching at me that I’m not resting enough and too stressed to heal properly and fuck, how am I supposed to be sleeping and not stressed right now when my career is probably over? Talk about no win scenarios.

I’ve failed him, Chris. I’ve failed you. I’ve failed everyone. How do I even begin to deal with that?

Jim

 **To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
** From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Monday 2260.336 

Dear Chris,

An hour ago, right after I wrote to you, I was summoned to my ready room for the brass’s decision. Bones stood nervously in a corner, Spock by my side. I swear to God I thought Bones was going to slump to the floor in relief when he heard their decision. Heard that I was staying on the Enterprise.

Spock said after the vidcomm that he’d leave Bones and I to “engage in celebration,” but neither of us felt like celebrating. Not that I’m not grateful and relieved. But with refugees still dying and tensions so high... I don’t know.

I guess this is where I say thanks to you for your help. When you said you were calling in every favor you could, I didn’t realize your parents would be playing such a huge part in me keeping my command. Admiral Barnett says Willa was instrumental and relentless about using her press contacts... threatening to go public with how they’d been treating me. Telling them what that would do to the recruitment numbers they are so desperately still trying to increase if their ‘poster boy’ was no longer Captain of the Enterprise. I’ve already written her and thanked her, but thanks, Chris. I mean it.

I have more to say, but right now your husband is looming over me. I have a date with a hypospray or two. If I sleep into sometime next week, it’s all his fault.

Thanks, Chris. Truly.

Jim

  
 **To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Tuesday 2260.337

Dear Chris,

I'm not sure where to start. The outcome of the inquiry, I guess, although you probably knew before Jim or I did.

He got a reprimand placed on his service record. From the wording of the comm he got from Starfleet, it’s pretty damn clear that he's expected to toe the line for the foreseeable future and be a good little Starfleet officer because he won't be treated so leniently next time.

It didn't seem that harsh to me, but Jim tells me that it means he'll probably never make admiral. Not that he wants that, anyway. He'd hate a desk job, and you know better than anyone that unless there are really unusual circumstances, admirals don't serve active duty on starships.

So he apparently weathered that storm without too much trouble. But what worries me is how he's dealing with the situation of the refugees we took onboard. He's not coping well. He never does when he has to see kids suffering, and this is especially bad since it reminds him so much of what we went through himself. But he'll survive. He always does.

Enough dwelling on that. Philip tells me that - much to his surprise - you're keeping to your new regimen. Actually listening to him, even if you still push yourself too hard in the gym.

Damn, that just gave me the mental image of you, just off the treadmill, pulling off your shirt, your muscles rippling and sheened with sweat. I love your body, your flat abs and your toned arms. Even more than that, I love the intense look of concentration you get on your face when you work out. If I were there with you, I'd get on my knees, pull your cock out of your shorts, and swallow you all the way down. Then I'd suck until you lost control and grabbed my head, fucking my throat hard and fast until you came. I'd swallow it all, every drop, and then I'd pull my own dick out - I'd be so hard and leaking by then - and I'd jerk myself off, looking in your eyes the whole time. I'd come all over your bare legs and then I'd lick it all up, tasting your sweat mixed with my come. Shit, baby, gotta touch myself now. Not gonna take long.

God damn, that was good. Haven't come that hard in a while. I needed that.

Darlin, it made me feel so good that you're using my last name in your personal journal. To be honest, I hadn't even thought about the name issue. Do you want us to change our names? Should we hyphenate, Pike-McCoy or McCoy-Pike? I guess both our names are short enough that a combination isn't too unwieldy. I'd be proud to have my name linked to yours, if that's what you want too.

Happy Thanksgiving - I almost forgot to say that. We didn't do too much here. Well, the crew had a celebration and banquet like usual, and all of the refugees who were well enough attended as well. Me and Jim just spent it quietly in sickbay, though. We had a light meal together in my office, but that was it. He didn't say anything but I know he wouldn't have been able to stand seeing a banquet table practically groaning with platters of food - not right now. He knows intellectually that none of it will go to waste, that anything that doesn't get eaten will be recycled by the replicators. But emotionally, he just couldn't handle it right now.

Sorry, darlin, didn't mean to circle back to Jim and that whole situation. On a happier note, Sulu and Chekov have finally figured out that they're both nuts about each other. Sulu was on the away team with Jim when he had that run-in with the Romulan warbirds, and I guess Chekov was so upset by Sulu's near escape that he pretty much barricaded himself in his quarters, only coming out for duty shifts. He wouldn't even talk to Sulu. Well, after about a week of that, Sulu had had enough, so he went to Chekov's quarters when Chekov was off rotation for a few days. Chekov wouldn't let him in, and Sulu said he wasn't leaving until Chekov came out to talk to him. Sulu was still on medical leave, so it's not like he had duty shifts to worry about.

So he camped outside Chekov's quarters, and he stayed there for 72 hours straight, only leaving for bathroom breaks or to grab something to eat from the replicator. He slept right there on the floor, blocking the door so Chekov wouldn't be able to sneak past without waking him.

Finally Chekov gave up and came out. I wasn't there but word is that they had a screaming fight in the corridor, which ended when Sulu yelled, "I love you, you stubborn jerk!" Apparently Chekov shut right up, stared at him for a minute, and then threw himself into Sulu's arms. By that time, they'd gathered quite the audience, who broke into cheers. Sulu and Chekov didn't even notice and started making out hot and heavy right there in the hallway. Eventually Scotty shoved them into Chekov's quarters and jimmied the door so they couldn't get out unless he let them out. Which he didn’t until two days later.

They've been inseparable ever since, constantly staring into each other's eyes, which is partly adorable and partly nauseating. Christine won the pool and she's been gloating like nobody's business.

I think that's about it from here. I miss you so much, baby, I can't even describe it.

Yours always,  
Len

  
  



	54. Conveniently Low (Part 49 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuing correspondence of... yeah, you know the drill.

_**Trek Fic: Conveniently Low (TTOMT Part 49, Pike/McCoy, NC-17)**_  
 **Title:** Conveniently Low (Part 49 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Author:** [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** Discussion of enemas  
 **Word Count:** Around 4300  
 **Summary:** The continuing correspondence of... yeah, you know the drill.  
 **A/N:** From [](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.livejournal.com/) (the pervy one): Yes, you read that right. Enemas. From [](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.livejournal.com/) (the evol one): Man, the things you learn being a slash fanfic writer. *adds bleach to next shopping trip*

  


**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy  
Wednesday 2260.338**

Things are pretty much back to normal here, or at least what passes for normal on this crazy traveling tuna can.

Had one of the most embarrassing moments of my medical career when I realized I was going to have to give The Talk to not only Chekov but Sulu as well. Sulu at least has been with women before. Chekov is - or was - a virgin - all they got up to when Scotty locked them in Chekov's quarters was hand jobs. So they made an appointment to come see me, and after I had explained the basics of gay sex, protection, and so forth, they proceeded to ask me every excruciating question that crossed their dirty little minds. Sulu even started one question with, "Well, how does it feel when Admiral Pike..." he thought the better of finishing that question when he saw the glare I was giving him.

Surprisingly, for all that he's younger and less experienced, Chekov was much less inhibited in talking about sex. And dear lord, I don't want to know what the kid has been reading or looking at, because the things he asked me about... good god, it's all I can do to write it down here. And I'm a goddamn medical professional. I swear to god, he spent at least thirty minutes asking about the ins and outs - oh hell, bad phrasing - about the details of erotic enemas. What substances he could use. How much. What temperature range was safe. How long someone could be made to hold it. I don't judge what anyone else wants to do in bed as long as it's consensual, but Jesus Christ, I need a bucket of brain bleach to get those mental images out of my head, especially in connection with sweet little Pavel Chekov. Sulu's face was so red during that part of the conversation that I was half afraid he was going to burst into flames.

Although, all things considered, I'd much rather have them ask, instead of one of 'em showing up in sickbay with an acute case of alcohol poisoning because the other one gave him a vodka enema or something. Or should that be "wodka enema"? Jesus.

Speaking of too much information about my fellow crew members' personal lives, I was privy to a fight between Nyota and Spock earlier today. Spock's been trying to get Nyota to postpone their plans to have a baby, in light of the recent incident with the Romulans in the neutral zone, and the heightened tension around that. No one's sure if war's going to erupt at any moment.

Anyway today during Nyota's appointment, Spock told her that it was not "logical" to bring a baby into the world "given the current political climate" and that he would no longer "provide genetic material for such an endeavor." Exact words, or close enough.

Well, Nyota hit the ceiling. She hollered at him a while but when he didn't budge, she told him that there was never going to be a perfect time to have a baby, that it was her body and her decision whether to get pregnant, and the only choice he got was whether he was going to be the daddy or not.

The look on Spock's face - ha, it was priceless. Then he got himself back under control and asked Nyota, poised as you please, whether he might have some time to consider his decision. She said he could have one week, and then she stomped out of there in high dudgeon.

So now they're not talking to each other, which Jim tells me makes things mighty awkward on the bridge given that they're both senior officers who need to actually communicate with each other. Apparently they've started doing the grade-school standby of picking a third person and asking them to relay a message even though the one you're not talking to is right there. Like, Spock might say to Chekov, "Please ask Lt. Uhura to scan for distress signals." And then Nyota would say to Chekov, "Please tell Commander Spock that I know how to do my job and I have already been scanning for the last five minutes." It's ridiculous. Jim was amused at first but now he's getting pissed. He said if they do that for one more duty shift, he's going to lock them in a room together until they sort things out.

Jim would actually go through with it too. Not sure it would work - each one's as stubborn as the other. But we'll see.

So, on to Jim. He's doing all right. We dropped off the refugees at a starbase last week. Ever since then he's been a bit more at ease. Not that he's glad they're gone, but he'll never really be able to be his usual irrepressible self when confronted with reminders of what he went through on Tarsus.

When we stopped to drop off the refugees, we also picked up the latest holo-mags and the mail that wasn't high enough priority to be sent out to the Enterprise via subspace. Jim's fan-mail, basically.

He's being painted as the daring bad boy with a heart of gold who defied orders to follow his conscience and do what was right. Which, I guess, isn't too far from the truth, even if hearing it put that way makes me roll my eyes. There were articles in all the holo-mags. He's lapping it up, naturally. He told me that the number of comms he got proposing marriage has doubled since the Romulan encounter in the neutral zone. And he said that I don't even want to know about the "less proper" offers. Well, he's right there.

I hope Willa knew what she was doing, involving the press in this mess - I think she's created a monster, personally. Or, well, at least fed the ego-monster that was already there. The kid's a mess of overweening ego in some areas and crippling insecurities in others, and he doesn’t need for that unbalance to become even more exaggerated.

So now I've rambled for a while without talking about what's actually on my mind. Chris, of course. Does it make me a coward to admit that I'm glad I don't have to deal with him and his moods right now? I'm honestly not sure I could take his bitching about Philip and Allen's breakup without blowing up. He's so over-invested in them it would be funny if it weren't so damn annoying. And yes, I know that's the pot calling the goddamn kettle black because I realize I'm more than a tad over-invested in Jim. But it's my own damn journal and if I want to have contradictory and hypocritical feelings, then by god I'm allowed.

I miss Chris - I miss his blue eyes, I miss the way he laughs, and god damn do I miss his body and the things he can do to mine. But, I've got to admit, there are things that I don't miss at all when we're apart. What does that say about our chances for making it long-term?

All right, now I'm just depressing myself. Nyota, Christine, and I have a scheduled "Bitch About Your Boyfriend" session after I get off-shift, so at least I can vent a little. I have a feeling Nyota needs that right now too. Christine isn't dating anyone right now but she's always happy to listen and cheer us on when we rant and rave about our partners. There's also usually frou-frou cocktails involved. Jim thinks it's hilarious that we have those sessions. Ha, just wait until he's in a long-term relationship. It's no piece of cake, that's for sure. Hmm, cake. Just realized I missed lunch. No wonder I'm hungry. Better go grab something to eat.

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. McCoy Pike  
Monday 2260.343**

I just sent the longest comm ever to Dr. Rossen. At this rate she’s going to start charging me per word she has to read. I want to say I feel better after sending it, but the truth is I don’t. I feel very alone right now and I only have myself to blame for that.

Philip is barely speaking to me. I’m hiding things from my husband. I’m sneaking more workouts in my quarters besides the extra ones Philip knows about in the gym. I’m angry at my mother and my father for that matter. And Jim? Well, for one I’m furious that he got off with basically a slap on the wrist. Yes, I know that he did the right thing and yes, I know I probably would have done the same damn thing. I know I’m being completely unreasonable. I just don’t fucking care right now.

I had a fight with Philip three days ago. It wasn’t pretty. I’m surprised he didn’t deck me, and only his maturity prevented that because I deserved it. It was one of those moments where words are flying out of your mouth and you feel like you are standing beside yourself watching, horrified at what you are saying, but powerless to stop it.

He said some things to me that stung. And they stung because unlike the crap I was spewing at him, everything he said to me was the absolute truth. The worst was his parting shot that I deserved to end up alone and was heading that way if I didn’t stop acting like a two-year-old throwing a tantrum if everything doesn’t go how I want. At that point I threw a PADD at him and he left. Other than official reports and meetings he hasn’t said a word to me. It was a stupid and petty fight and I’m a fucking idiot.

I have been stomping around – literally – ever since I got the comm from Jim, and even Len’s. The word from The Admiralty that Jim basically got off scot-free. And to find out that my parents – my mother especially was instrumental in that decision. It’s a punch in the gut. I feel betrayed by my own parents. Why? Because as I said in my last entry, I wanted Jim to lose his command. I wanted my husband here. I wanted Philip to go back to Earth and save his marriage and quit acting like an idiot. In other words, like Philip said, I wanted everything the way _I_ want it and I’m pissed because it didn’t happen that way.

The truth is, I’m just as big of an idiot as Philip is apparently. And as Philip called me, a _selfish arrogant prick_. I know he’s right. Hell, part of me is _proud_ of that. The other part of me is ashamed of how I’ve been acting. Fuck.

I know I have to tell Len how I really feel. I can’t stand to think about the disappointment he’ll feel. It makes me glad that I don’t have to do it in person. Does that make me a coward? Maybe I am. It’s bad enough thinking about the look he’ll have on his face when he reads what I have to say. Knowing that once again I’ve let him down. And wonder at what point he gets sick and tired of it. Not a great way to start a marriage. Fuck.

I keep thinking about when we were first writing each other -- Early in our relationship. How he said that being apart like this wouldn’t be enough for him. I had told him that I basically would take what I could get. And I meant it at the time. Of course if circumstances were different, I wouldn’t want to be apart from him. But they aren’t and at my age and stage in my career I still stand by the fact that I would rather have him like this than not at all. But how long will he put up with this? Especially with me unable to overcome my jealousy of Jim and my apparent emotional maturity of a five year old.

Fuck. Well, time to face the firing squad. I need to comm both Len and Jim. I think I’m going to tell both of them the truth. Maybe We’ll see if I have a husband and – Hell, I don’t even know what to call Jim anymore. In some ways I do still think of him as a son, but I sure as hell don’t deserve to.

I don’t think I really deserve anything right now.

Dear Jim,

This might be the hardest comm I’ve ever sent. No, the one I’m going to send Len after this one will be.

First of all, I’m an asshole. Let me get that out right away. I know it’s true. I’m not necessarily proud of that fact, but it is a fact nonetheless.

I haven’t been exactly truthful to you these past few weeks. I am not even sure how to start and I know I’m fumbling badly already so I’m going to just state the facts:

I wanted you to lose your command. I was furious when you didn’t. Still am.

I was mad as hell when I found out my parents intervened on your behalf, and no I didn’t ask them to. I had no idea they were involved or even knew what was going on.

I want Len on the Exeter with me. Yes, that is the reason why I wanted you to lose your command. Because I know he wouldn’t stay on the Enterprise if you weren’t there.

I think the relationship you have with my husband is inappropriate. I don’t give a flying fuck if you need each other. He’s _my_ husband and I’m tired of feeling like the third wheel in this relationship.

  
Well, I’m obviously still writing in my journal. I didn’t send the above comm to Jim -- I saved it to sleep on it. Now that I’ve copied it here to read again -- Fuck. Am I really that person? I don’t even know anymore. Everything I wrote is true for the most part, but does it make me a better person if don’t send it? Or does it make me a coward?

I don’t even know anymore. I don’t have Philip to talk to about this. I don’t want to take out my obviously pettiness on Jim by actually sending the comm, but what the hell am I supposed to do? Just keep it all bottled up until I say something stupid when I see him on Risa a in a coupon of months? Or actually send a comm like the one I haven’t sent or worse at a weak moment?

  
I don’t know what the answer is. I’m just as confused this morning as I was last night. I’m not as angry though, so I guess that’s something. Maybe it’s therapeutic to write it all out and not share it. Maybe it’s okay not to tell Jim everything I’m feeling. And Len for that matter. Is that the grown up mature thing to do or am I just asking for trouble later?

I know Jim doesn’t deserve the words I wrote. I know they stem from my jealousy that I still can’t seem to get control of. Is this is what my life is going to be? Biting my tongue when it comes to the two of them? Dr. Rossen seems to believe that there will come a time that I will accept it and maybe she’s right. But like everything else, I want to know _when_ that will be. If someone could tell me it would be eight months or even eight years, I would know there is an end in sight. I can handle that. Apparently what I can’t handle is the unknown, which considering I’m currently running a ship whose mission is to explore just that, makes me – Well fuck, I don’t know what it makes me.

I’m good at being a Captain, a leader. The unknown in that context excites me – Challenges me.

I’m apparently completely inept at being a man – a husband. Hell, even a friend. How does one even begin to fix that at fifty-five?

Fuck if I know and now I have to get to the bridge. I guess I won’t send that comm to Jim, but I know I need to send something. And I need to write Len, but I’ll deal with that tonight. Right now, I have students to teach and a red alert drill to spring on my crew today. Hopefully keeping busy will keep me out of trouble – Today at least.

 **To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Tuesday 2260.344

Dear Len,

I’m sorry I haven’t written sooner. I am just going to come right out and say that I’m struggling right now. I’m feeling very alone and I only have myself to blame for that.

Philip isn’t speaking to me. We had words over a week ago and we both said things to each other – hurtful things. I really screwed up, Len. Maybe irreparably.

I’m going to get the superfluous stuff out of the way first – Another way of putting off the inevitable things I need to confess. Wait, that probably wasn’t the right thing to say, but I told myself I wasn’t going to censor this for the most part. It’s not what you think. I love you. I am not leaving you. Let’s just say that you might want to leave _me_ when I’m done.

Now that that hasn’t reassured you at all because apparently I’m an asshole – I’m glad to hear about Sulu and Chekov. While I didn’t know Sulu before the Enterprise’s maiden voyage, he did a fine job and seems like a good kid. I had known Chekov a bit at the Academy. Had the worst time remembering the kid’s name, but I know he was a wunderkind. He certainly contributed to saving my ass and Earth’s for that matter. They all seemed great, the Enterprise crew, the times we’ve been with them. Knowing that, and that you are with them always makes me know you’re in good hands. That’s important to me.

Jim has written me quite a bit. I’m glad he’s okay or as okay as he can be considering. Despite what you think, part of me is glad you’re there for him. That he has you -- Because he wouldn’t be where he is without you. That’s hard for me to acknowledge and I’m struggling, really struggling with that right now. I’m going to try to not get over-dramatic here, but I’m not going to censor this and erase, so here we go.

There was part of me that wanted him to lose his command. Yes, I did do what I could in trying to help him and I did vote in support of him in case you were wondering. On the flip side, I couldn’t help but think of the possibilities if he did. It seemed like it was an answer to many prayers. One, I’d get to have you here on the Exeter. Now, I’m sure you are thinking ‘What the fuck, Chris, you can’t just boot Philip out’ but I think if Jim had lost his command Philip would have come to his senses and seen that it was a sign that he was supposed to go home. Save his marriage. Save his family. Quit being selfish and stay earthside to save his marriage.

Of course that makes me hypocritical, because I’ve never been willing to do that before in any of my relationships and I can tell you that cost me my previous marriage and another relationship long ago. At this point, I still wouldn’t do it in all honesty. But that doesn’t apply to us because you’re in space with Jim.

Which brings us back to Jim. I kept thinking if he lost his command, if he wasn’t on the Enterprise, there would be nothing keeping you there. That I could have you transferred to the Exeter. Have Philip go home. Things would be right. Jim would eventually get a command back, but I figured by that time you’d be happily settled with me.

Of course things you have said before weigh on my mind both ways about this. When we were first ‘dating’ I guess you’d call it, you told me that being separated for long periods of time wouldn’t be enough for you. That’s always been foremost on my mind when I think about spending the next nine years apart from you. Yet, you married me knowing that was what you were signing up for. I can’t help but wonder if you’ve really thought that through and if you really want to wait for me for nine years. That scares me, Len. More than I can even convey. It’s probably why I’m so damn jealous of Jim and have been completely out of my mind lately. At what point is our relationship not worth it to you anymore and you just can’t deal with us being apart?

While I don’t like the idea of seeing you once or twice a year for the next nine years, like I said before, it’s worth it. _You’re_ worth it. I know what - I want Leonard McCoy and I’ve spent my entire life looking for you and I’m certainly not going to let a little matter like time screw up the best thing that ever happened to me. I mean that. No, it’s not easy. I don’t want you to think it is easy for me to be separated from you. But it’s scarier to think about not having you at all.

I am glad Jim is okay, Len. I do love him, despite my apparent inability to separate my affection for him from my innate feelings of jealousy over how close the two of you are. I also know it’s going to be an ongoing struggle. I know that. Dr. Rossen tells me it will get better. I want to believe that, Len. And maybe that’s why I want you on the Exeter so badly. So that I’d know you were _mine_ and mine alone. Just typing this makes me shake my head and I know it’s wrong to feel like that. But that’s how I feel, Len. I’m just trying to be honest.

This is where I confess that I was angry at you too. I feel like you should have found some way to tell me what was going on - that you were going to go into the neutral zone to find the Romulans - before it happened. I _know_ if you had asked Jim to send me a message he would have done it for you. I’m sure you know that too. But you didn’t. And that hurts. Because if the same situation had happened here, if I had the chance, I would have found a way, Len. All I can say is thank God for our rings, because I don’t know what I would have done otherwise.

I just realized something as I was typing all of this. I guess the bottom line is that all of this – This relationship, these feelings I can’t seem to control – They make me feel weak, Len. Weakness is something I’ve never felt – something a starship captain can’t afford to feel. That’s something I don’t know how to resolve – How to fix. Maybe it’s something I can’t fix. What then? Where does that leave me? Leave us?

I’m scared, Len. Our relationship from the beginning, falling so hard for you, being with you has been terrifying. In some ways I got off on that. It was just something else to conquer. To beat. And I did. And I have you now. We’re married. You’re _mine_. Except now, I have this new fear that is even bigger than before. The fear of losing you. The fear of fucking up so badly that it’s not worth it to you anymore. Or that you’ll get tired of waiting for me.

Writing all of this is supposed to make me feel better. I wrote a comm so long to Dr. Rossen yesterday that I had to send it in two parts. Talking about everything is supposed to be a weight off of my shoulders isn’t it? Instead, I feel like instead of bricks on my shoulders, it’s an anchor on a chain around my neck, just waiting to be dropped. I feel like all I’m doing is waiting for your response – To hear and know how much I’ve disappointed you again – Let you down. Let Jim down. And I have, even if he doesn’t know it. Even if you don’t know it.

I feel terrible right now. I feel guilty. I feel ashamed. If I showed you the comm I wrote to Jim but never sent, you’d probably never speak to me again and rightfully so. I didn’t send it though and I’m not going to. I will comm him when my head is in a better place. I probably should have waited to write you too, but I needed to. I needed to talk to someone – Needed to talk to _you_.

I need to get some sleep now. It’s 0100 and I need to hit send on this before I lose my nerve.

I love you, Len. I hope if anything, you at least know that.

Chris

  



	55. The Billows Smooth and Bright (Part 50 of To Talk of Many Things)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuing correspondence of... yeah, you know the drill.

_**Trek Fic: The Billows Smooth and Bright (TTOMT Part 50, Pike/McCoy, NC-17)**_  
 **Title:** The Billows Smooth and Bright (Part 50 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Author:** [](http://mga1999.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.dreamwidth.org/) and [](http://skyblue-reverie.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.dreamwidth.org/)  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** May be triggery for events surrounding 9/11.  
 **Word Count:** Around 3000  
 **Summary:** The continuing correspondence of... yeah, you know the drill.  
 **A/N:** From [](http://skyblue-reverie.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**skyblue_reverie**](http://skyblue-reverie.dreamwidth.org/) (the pervy one): There's a disappointing lack of kinkiness in this chapter. I'll have to work on that. *plots* From [](http://mga1999.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**mga1999**](http://mga1999.dreamwidth.org/) (the evol one): Well, we are getting THISCLOSE to 300,000 words so I suppose we should do something special for that. *offers bribe to co-writer to write pr0n*

  


**To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Date sent: Friday 2260.347 

Dear Chris,

All right, first of all, I love you. I'm not leaving you. Although I am starting to get mighty irked at how quick you are to assume I'd cut and run when things get tough. I'm in this for the long haul, Christopher Pike, and you're not getting rid of me that easily.

Now, with that out of the way - has anyone ever told you you're a bit of a drama queen? Now, I don't mean to make light of the way you're feeling. But darlin', it's not the end of the world. Okay, you fought with Philip. You two have been friends for decades. It's going to take more than one blow-out fight to destroy that.

And you had some uncharitable thoughts about Jim. I wouldn't have expected anything different. I have uncharitable thoughts all the time, trust me, about Jim, Christine, Spock - Spock more than anyone - and even about you sometimes. And yes, darlin', I know you have uncharitable thoughts about me too. It's okay. Just do me a favor and don't tell me about all of 'em, 'cause it would hurt my feelings.

You really can't help your emotions, and you can't help your thoughts. Trying to force yourself not to think or feel something is about the surest way I can think of to make sure that that thought or feeling digs in roots and takes over. But Chris, I am so proud of you, darlin'. Proud that you didn't let your jealousy and anger at Jim affect your vote in the Council, proud that you didn't lash out at him in a comm. Can you honestly say that even six months ago, you would have shown such self-control if this had happened? I think you're growing more than you give yourself credit for.

All right, now to some of the specifics. First off, I understand why you're mad that I didn't send you a comm. And you're probably right that Jim would have let me if I had asked him. But, Chris, here's the thing. I knew that we were going to be confronting multiple Romulan warbirds - though no one knew exactly how many because of the goddamn cloaking. Honestly, I wasn't sure we had a snowball's chance in hell. And it killed me that I might go off, never to return, without having said goodbye to you, at least in a comm.

But - if we were going to have any chance of succeeding, the only way was the element of surprise. They couldn't find out we were willing to enter the neutral zone, to engage them if they attacked the cargo ships. And if they had caught wind of what we were up to, then most likely every soul aboard the Enterprise would have died, and it would have been my fault. Because I was selfish enough to want to write to you, reach out to you. So, I had to decide. Your anxiety and anguish versus the lives of all of my fellow crewmembers. It was a tougher choice than maybe it ought to have been, but in the end, I couldn't risk it. I can't even say that I regret the choice or that I'd do it differently if I had it to do over. I am sorry that it hurt you, though, more than I can say. I hope that you can forgive me.

As for the part of you that wanted Jim to lose his command... well, darlin', I have my own confession, which is that part of me wanted that too. I knew it was wrong, and I knew that it wasn't what I really wanted, but - Chris, I constantly feel torn between you and Jim. Sometimes I feel pulled so hard in two different directions that I'm amazed I haven't split right down the middle. And if Jim lost his command, well, the choice would be taken out of my hands. I wouldn't have to decide, and I wouldn't have to feel, every second of every day, like I was letting one or the other of you down. So, you see, you're not the only one who has those kind of thoughts. Just please promise me you won't tell Jim - not about my thoughts _or_ yours. No good could come from telling him, and it would about kill him if he knew.

Okay, moving on to the issue of how much - or, rather, how little - time we get together. Chris, when I said that seeing you every once in a while wouldn't be enough for me, that was before we were so committed to each other. At the time, I believed what I said. But now - darlin', I'll take what I can get. If that means hurried reunions during shore leave or when we can get our ships' schedules to coincide, then I can live with that. Baby, there will never be a point at which I decide that I'm seeing too little of you and so I'm going to call it off. Some time with you is better than none at all. So please, please, don't be afraid on that score.

As for feeling weak because of your feelings for me - well, I don't know that I can help you there. I think that's something you will have to come to terms with on your own. But for me, I feel that loving you gives me strength. I have the confidence of knowing that someone's always going to be on my side, that someone knows who I am, all my ins and outs and flaws and quirks, and loves me anyway. And when I'm in a sticky situation - which, with Jim around, is more often than not - knowing that I've got to make it home to you in one piece gives me the motivation to keep going when I might otherwise think about giving up. Knowing you're out there, giving up is not an option. Ever. That doesn't make me weak, it makes me stronger.

Chris, I love you. I am glad you wrote to me, glad you were honest, glad that you reached out. I think that's something you wouldn't have done six months ago either. I said it before, but it bears repeating - I'm so proud of you, baby.

And you're not alone, even when it feels that way. You've got me, you've got Jim, you've got Philip. And there are other people who would support you too, if you let them - Admiral Barnett for one. Allen's another - I know that you don't want to take sides in the divorce, but I don't think Philip would resent you corresponding with Allen, and Allen's got a good head on his shoulders - he might be able to give you a different perspective. Plus, of course, you're lucky enough to have a family who loves you - your mom and dad, your grandmother, your cousin Annie - any of them would walk through fire for you, Chris. You know all this, I know, it's just sometimes easy to forget in times of trouble. But you are not alone. Not now, not ever. All right?

Now, how about some lighter topics?

Sulu will be relieved to hear that you remember him fondly. He still gets teased about forgetting the "parking brake" by everyone on the bridge crew. He always turns beet red and gets all flustered, which of course only means that everyone teases him all the more. But I'm pretty sure he thought that you'd decided that he was an irredeemable idiot after that little exchange on the Enterprise. He'll be glad to hear that's not the case.

Let's see, what else. Nyota and Spock had an awful fight a little while back, and for a while they weren't speaking to each other. But now they've made up and the lovey-dovey looks are enough to turn a man's stomach. Well, all right, the lovey-doveyness is mostly on Nyota's side. But I've caught Spock staring at her with a faraway look in his eye once or twice, and they've been doing that Vulcan finger-kissing thing every time they're together - in the turbolift, in the mess, even on the bridge, according to Jim. I'm starting to think that maybe the fighting was better. Well, not really, because I want Nyota to be happy, and lord knows she's ecstatic right now.

Damn, now I'm all worn out. This emotional support business is tiring. That's not a complaint, you understand, just an observation. I think I'm going to head to bed early. And, by the way, before I fall asleep, I'm going to stroke my cock into full hardness, thinking about you, then I'm going to lube up a couple of my fingers, and fuck them in and out of my asshole, over and over, and I'm going to jerk myself off until I come, moaning your name.

I hope that puts some of your fears to rest. I do love you, you stubborn son of a bitch. Now quit your moping.

Always,  
Len

 **To: Philip Boyce (pboyce@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Date sent: Friday 2260.347 

Dear Philip:

I'm writing to ask for a favor. I know you've got your own problems right now. I also know that Chris has been a first-rate ass lately. But right now he could really use a friendly face. He's hurting, Philip. I'm doing what I can by comm but it's not the same as being there.

So, if you can find it in you to forgive him, or at least to put that stuff aside for now, I'd be grateful. If you could talk to him, let him know that you're still his friend, I know it would make a world of difference to him.

Thanks,  
Len

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy  
Friday 2260.347**

I'll keep this short because lord knows I need some sleep, but right now I'm too restless to settle.

Chris is having a hard time. I wrote him, gave him what comfort I could. I just hope it's enough.

There's not a doubt in my mind that he's clinically depressed. Shows all the symptoms - classic textbook case, really. But last time I suggested that, he wasn't very receptive, to say the least - meaning he flipped the hell out and went into major denial mode. So I'm keeping my mouth shut this time.

Given all the shit that's been going down, and the way it's affecting both Jim and Chris, I've decided to pick up a board certification in psychology, with a subspecialty in space psychology. I don't know how I'll find the time to study in between everything else I'm doing, but I'll make it work somehow. Maybe one of those stubborn asses will actually listen to my opinion about their mental health if I've got the fancy holo-certificate to prove I know what I'm talking about.

Actually, once I've got that certification, I probably ought to use it on myself because I've noticed something a mite disturbing about myself. I get off on being Chris's confidant. And I mean that both literally and figuratively. There's something in me that loves being the one he relies on, being the only one who gets to see him so vulnerable. Strokes my ego, I guess. But - and this is the weird part - it also gets me turned on, physically. I wasn't kidding when I told Chris that I was going to jack off after I wrote him that last comm. The fact that the the legendary Christopher Pike actually turns to me for comfort when he's feeling down - damn, just writing these words I'm hard as a rock.

Like I said, disturbing. Well, now I've got a little problem I better go deal with, then it's off to bed for me.

 **To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date sent: Tuesday 2260.351

Dear Len,

I don’t know where to start. There’s no easy way to say this so I guess the beginning is good. Yesterday I was sitting down to write to you I when received a priority vidcomm from headquarters. When I saw the look on Richard’s face I knew it was nothing good. At 1247 on 2260.350, Terra Prime detonated a massive explosive at the TransGalaxy Pyramid building downtown. I don’t know if you remember or not, but my godson, Philip’s son, Txanton, or Chris as his friends and family call him, is interning at a company in that building for a year. I don’t know if Jim has informed the crew yet but since you are close enough to Earth to pick up the newsnet feeds, I’m sure you’ve heard about the attack and seen the video of the pyramid on fire and part of it falling.

God, Len, my namesake. And it gets worse. It was lunch time and Allen had come to visit, to eat with him. They were in one of the upper level restaurants which is the only reason they are still alive – When I got word, they were still trying to locate and beam out survivors. God, Chris - he’s probably not going to make it, Len, and if he does – Fuck, he may have brain and spinal injuries they may not be able to fix. He was buried in rubble and Allen was pinned too but miraculously was not as badly injured.

Philip came to see me shortly after I got the comm, but before the news had been released. I guess he’d gotten a comm from you -- You’d asked him to look in on me. I was sitting there staring off into space trying to figure out how to tell him that his son and husband - because he’s still Allen’s husband dammit - had been caught up in a terrorist attack, when the door to my quarters chimed. At the time there was no word on their fate. He knew the second he saw me there was something incredibly wrong. The first words out of his mouth were “Did something happen to Len? To the Enterprise?” I shook my head and somehow managed to tell him to sit down, motioning to the couch. I sat down next to him, grabbing his hands, and managed to stumble through telling him what had happened. I’ve had to tell people that their loved ones were injured or killed before and it never gets easier – You know how that is, but telling Philip, especially when It was _my_ godson. God, Len.

Needless to say those hours are a blur. Philip and I sat on the couch in silence, I just held my PADD in my hand, waiting for more information from Starfleet to come through. Maybe I am starting to understand you and Jim sitting together like that. There wasn’t anything either of us could say to each other. I don’t remember much other than conferring with my command crew. We got another vidcomm from Richard within two hours that they’d found Chris and Allen alive, but that it was bad. I’d already ordered the Exeter to head towards the nearest Starbase. Word spread around quickly like it always does on a starship. I had to pull myself together and make a broadcast – I have other crew members with family who work in or near that building. I was getting regular priority updates. The Federation is on high alert. There were apparently a couple other bombings off-planet at Federation outposts – Nothing as bad, luckily. I don’t know exactly what the news is reporting yet as we’re too far out to get the feeds. SFI expects more attacks, but they are considering it ‘lucky’ that it was lunch time or more people would have been in the building. ‘Lucky’ that only 1,000 people were killed or seriously injured instead of up to the 2,000 people who work there at capacity? Fuck.

They are recalling all ships currently on exploration missions and deploying us to various sectors where there are outposts and starbases they feel may be at risk. I’m awaiting orders right now. We’re too far out for the Terra Prime fringe at the moment. Philip boarded a transport to Earth this morning and should be home in a day or two. I can only hope and pray that if we are going to lose Chris -- shit, I had to take a moment typing that – That Philip arrives home in time to say goodbye.

I have more, but I’ll have to finish later. Right now I’ve got scheduled vidcomms with headquarters for the next few hours. I will let you know when I hear anything. I know you aren’t a praying man, Len, but if you wouldn't mind -- Chris needs all the prayers he can get right now.

I love you, Len. Re-reading your last comm has kept me going the last couple days at times when I didn’t think I had anything left.

Be safe, baby.

Chris

 **To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Starfleet Headquarters Administrative Office (hqadmin@starfleet.gov)  
Date sent: Tuesday 2260.351

Per Starfleet Order 28455 you are hereby recalled from your duties as Chief Medical Officer of the USS Enterprise and are ordered to report to Outpost 1113 by 1700 hours on 2260.352. You will await transport for reassignment as Interim Chief Medical Officer on the USS Exeter in relief of Admiral Philip Boyce.

Lieutenant Dr. Jabilo Geoffrey M’Benga will act as interim Chief Medical Officer on the USS Enterprise.

-end transmission-

  



	56. Chapter 51, Is What We Chiefly Need

**Title:** Is What We Chiefly Need (Part 51 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Author:** and   
**Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy   
**Rating:** NC-17  
 **Spoilers:** None   
**Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** Around 4000  
 **Summary:** The continuing correspondence of... yeah, you know the drill.  
 **A/N:** From (the pervy one) and (the evol one): Next chapter, the 300k word mark. There MIGHT be something special for it if you guys are especially nice. :p

 

 **Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy  
Wednesday 2260.352**

I'm on the transport shuttle to Outpost 1113, and from there I'll catch another shuttle to the Exeter. Back in my former life in Georgia, I'd never have thought that one day I'd be able to sit calmly - well, relatively calmly - on a shuttle, typing a journal entry instead of clutching the armrests and drinking myself into oblivion.

But then, back in Georgia I never would have imagined any of this - a Starfleet career, a friend closer than any I've ever had, and, strangest of all, being married to Christopher goddamn Pike, of all people. Life's downright strange.

So now I'm going from serving with Jim to serving under Chris. I'm not sure how to feel about that. The transfer orders caught me by surprise, that's for damn sure. As soon as I got the comm, I stormed onto the bridge, ranting and raving at Jim for keeping something like this from me, but I could immediately tell that he was just as shocked as I was. Kid's a helluvan actor, but he's not _that_ good. At least not when it comes to hiding things from me.

The Enterprise was out of vidcomm range of the Exeter, or we would've gotten Chris on the line to see if he had something to do with this. As it is, though, I'll have to wait until I see him in person to ask him. Course at that point I'll probably have other things on my mind.

I'm trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, I really am, even though it goes against my nature. If he is behind the transfer, I'm sure he had a damn good reason. Beyond just losing his own CMO, I mean.

Damn, I feel for Philip. I hope like hell that Txanton will make it. Right now, we've all just got to wait and see if his body can overcome the massive trauma it suffered. There’s nothing more the medical team can do right now other than make him comfortable. I've been in that position and it's godawful. Must be even worse for Philip, watching his son struggling for life and not being able to do anything to help, despite all his training and years of experience.

Allen was hurt in the explosion too, although not as badly, according to Chris. Still, I can only imagine that that's causing all sorts of conflicted feelings for Philip - they're still married, officially, and I'm sure there are still feelings there. A 33-year relationship doesn't just evaporate overnight.

The whole thing - the attack, I mean - is tragic. Beyond that, though, it's worrying, politically. With tensions high with the Romulans, we can't afford to be splitting our forces right now. It'll just weaken the Federation, and humanity, further. Don't those Terra Prime idiots see that? Hell, I'm sympathetic to some of their positions, but I'd never condone terrorist attacks as a way to make a point.

The other worry on my mind, of course, is Jim. Who’s going to take care of him, make sure he gets enough sleep and enough to eat? Who's going to talk to him so he can blow off steam and just be himself? Spock? Ha, that's a laugh.

Christine will try her best, because she knows damn well I'll follow through on every single threat I made if she doesn't, but it's not the same. And M'Benga's good, but... well, I've always subscribed to the school of thought that says "if you want something done right, you've got to do it yourself." About the only other doctor I'd trust in my stead is Philip, and for obvious reasons that's not an option.

My transfer also means that Nyota's plans to get pregnant are on hold for now - M'Benga doesn't have the expertise in genetics it would take to ensure a successful pregnancy. He could learn, if he needs to, but Nyota would rather have me do it, so she told me she was going to wait, at least until we know how long the reassignment is going to last. I'll bet that burned Spock's biscuits, when he heard that Nyota is willing to wait for me to have a baby, but she wasn't willing to wait for him. Wish I could’ve seen his face when he learned that tidbit.

Despite all I'm leaving behind on the Enterprise, it'll be good to see Chris, spend time with him. Real good. I know it won't be like shore leave - we'll both have duties - but even being able to see him every day, see with my own eyes that he's all right... that alone makes it worth it.

I wonder if we'll be sharing quarters? Officially, I'm sure I'll be assigned my own quarters as CMO, maybe even Philip's quarters, but unofficially - seeing Chris will be good, but it would be even better to be able to hold him every night.

Well that shuttle's about to dock so I'd better end this for now. Next time I write, it'll be on the Exeter.

 

 **To: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Date sent: Wednesday 2260.352**

Dear Jim,

I'm on outpost 1113, waiting for my transport flight to the Exeter, so I thought I'd take this opportunity to remind you that you're under direct doctor's orders _not to do anything goddamn stupid._

And lest you think I won't know if you disregard these orders, let me warn you that I have an entire network of spies on the Enterprise, ready and waiting to report to me as soon as you do.

Don't think I can't find a way to make you suffer from across the quadrant, either. My reach is long, Jim Kirk, so you'd better be on your best behavior.

I MEAN IT, YOU JACKASS.

-Bones

 

 **To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
Date sent: Wednesday 2260.252**

Dear Bones,

Shouldn’t you be sleeping or resting up for all the sex you’ll be having with your husband?

As far as your _spies_ , if you think I don’t know _exactly_ who they are and haven’t already bought them off with extra shower water rations and shore leave credits then you don’t know me as well as you think.

I have spies too. And even the mighty Christopher Pike doesn’t know who they are. So I’ll be watching _your_ every move too. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Your Jackass,

Jim

P.S. I miss you too, asshole.

 

 **Personal Journal of Christopher R. McCoy Pike  
Friday 2260.254**

In less than forty eight four hours, my husband will be on the Exeter. When I got the orders, I nearly dropped my PADD on the bridge. I knew we would be getting a replacement for Philip. We don’t have any doctors on the Exeter remotely qualified to act even as an interim CMO. I figured they’d send someone from Earth; I never expected Len. He had told me how decimated the medical ranks were after the Narada – I guess I didn’t realize how much.

I wrote Richard about the orders, but I haven’t heard from him yet. I’m sure he has his hands full with the bombing. I doubt he would pull strings to do this anyway. If anything, I suspect sending Len here – Well, I wouldn’t put it past one of the Admirals that has it in for Jim to have arranged it. Maybe I’m being paranoid and it’s not like I’m not glad that I’m going to have Len on board the Exeter, I just – I guess I feel guilty. All my acting like a spoiled child recently, hoping Jim would lose his ship, hoping Len would be here, and now he will be. Even if it’s only temporary. And God help me for hoping maybe it will be permanent.

Not that I want to take Philip’s job away from him. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that part of me hopes he stays on Earth. I haven’t heard from him and I don’t know if that means it’s good news or bad. While I know we didn’t repair our friendship before we left, I refuse to believe that he’s angry enough at me that he’d keep news about my godson and Allen from me.

Mostly right now, I’m feeling like everyone has been right but me. That’s not something that is easy to swallow. Heck, even my mother scolded me in a comm today about my ‘jealous sulks’ I apparently have about Jim at times. She’s a smart woman, she read between the lines of my recent comms. Or more like what I didn’t say. She wanted to know why she had to hear about all of Jim’s trouble from Len instead of me. At least that answers how she got involved in the first place.

Dr. Rossen had a lot to say in her comm too. I know I’m supposed to feel better when she reassures me that I’m making progress and even Len said he was proud of me. I know that should make me feel better, but the fact of the matter is that I still feel completely out of control regarding certain matters. Dr. Rossen has always told me that I don’t like to give up control – I was never delusional enough to think I’ve ever really had control over everything, but I’ve led a pretty charmed life. I’m good at what I do. Damn good. And I handled every aspect of my life keeping up that façade of invincibility.

I’m supposed to feel better – Feel relief at the comm Len sent me. And I’ll admit that when I got it, I was afraid to open it to see what it said. I thought for sure – Well, once again Len shows how much better a man that he is than me. He gave me exactly what I needed and initially I felt better. Now I just feel like an idiot. About how I once again let my emotions get the best of me. He says that love makes him stronger – I still say it makes me weaker. That’s not a good feeling.

As much as I want him here – Want him with me – I’m afraid that having him here will make it worse. Here I’ve been hoping – wishing for him to be here and now it’s actually happening and I’m worried not only how it will affect me and my command, but our relationship as well. I’m trying not to think about the utter disaster of the time we spent together on the Enterprise. And I know that was different because Jim was there – But still – This will certainly be a test of not only our personal relationship, but most importantly, our working relationship. I know I’m not an easy man to serve under and I know Len has the same reputation. I want this to work so badly. I want Len to see that not only can we make our relationship work on a ship, but that professionally we can too. I feel like if I can just make him see that – Well, maybe his stay can be permanent.

But I know I can’t change who I am. I know I can’t treat him any different than I would anyone else. Philip and I took a long time to earn our working relationship. What happens when you’re trying to not only figure out your personal relationship – A new marriage – And a professional one for the first time?

I’m starting to think there is someone at headquarters that has it in for all of us with this move. But that’s just me being paranoid again I’m sure. We’ll get through it. I just hope I still have a husband left when it’s over.

 

 **To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Philip Boyce (pboyce@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Monday 2260.357 **

 

Dear Chris,

Merry Christmas since it’s only two days away here. Although I can’t quite bring myself to partake in any merriment at the moment. I’m sitting at Chris’s bedside right now. Matthew and Nathan just left to go and grab Kianna who’s been curled up in bed with Allen most of the day. They are going to take her to dinner and then back to the house for the night. I guess they are all holding up as well as can be expected. I’m a little worried about Kianna. She’s been very quiet. Not herself at all. Which, given the situation, I can understand. But something else is wrong and I’m not quite sure whether I should push right now or just let her be. She’s always been such a challenge, that girl, so different than her siblings. Yes, I know most of it is because she’s a girl, but Allen’s nieces were always so vastly different from her too.

I suppose I should stop rambling now and update you. Allen will be fine. He was lucky. He had a concussion, punctured lung, broken clavicle, and his knee was crushed by falling debris. His knee will need more surgery and reconstruction but he’ll be back on his feet in a couple of weeks. They will probably release him next week after the final surgery on his knee. When I arrived I had the pleasure of meeting his new lover, William, who was sitting at his bedside. Despite the surprise of seeing him there holding Allen’s hand, it really didn’t bother me at much as I’d expect. He seems nice. He was gracious and respectful and after introductions left to give Allen and I some privacy so it wasn’t awkward at all. He’s tall dark and in his mid-sixties I would gather. Widowed. He’s Jamaican and still has the thick accent from that region.

I don’t know if you’ve been updated on Chris since I left, so I’ll give you the condensed version. This is hard. I’m going to attach his medical report and give Len access since I know he’s currently on his way to the Exeter and he can better explain it. The bottom line is his lower body was crushed and it’s doubtful he’ll ever be able to walk again. He had so many internal injuries, it’s a miracle he survived at all. The beam that crushed him ironically saved him from bleeding out from the initial explosion and shrapnel he was hit with before he could be rescued. Of course once he was, it was a race to keep that from happening. They lost him four times, God, four times they brought my boy back. It’s a credit to the trauma team that worked on him that he’s alive at all. But he had so many other injuries, skull fracture, brain swelling…

I’m sorry, I had to stop for a moment and gather myself. I think I need to let Len explain the rest to you. He’s on total life support so right now it’s just a waiting game to see if his body can heal from the trauma and blood loss. Recovery will be long, that is if he wakes up at all. There have been a couple close calls since I’ve arrived. More surgeries. I’m trying to remain positive, you know that’s my nature, but God, I can’t even begin to explain how helpless I feel. All the technology, all the breakthroughs in medicine we have and it still comes down to how much trauma the body can take and recover from. I know my boy is strong willed and I thank God for that right now, because I’m sure that is the only reason he’s alive at all.

I’ve been working some. Consulting mostly. Mentally I’m just not up to surgery even though they have their hands full with so many injured. So at least I can offer advice and experience since there are so many green doctors around. You wouldn’t believe how young some of them are. I worked with a second year intern earlier today who is fifteen. Jesus that’s young. He’s good, but sometimes I think these kids are pushed too fast. Kids need to be kids. That’s what Allen and I always agreed when they wanted to advance ours. There is nothing wrong with letting kids mature at a normal and healthy pace. Remember that when you and Len have kids. It was certainly the best advice my father ever gave me.

Speaking of Len, I never got to talk to you before I left. He had sent me a comm basically telling me to overlook the fact that you were being an asshole. He was worried about you and I’m sorry, Chris. It seems so petty now with what’s going on. And as longtime Starfleet men, we should know better. Either one of us could be gone in a blink of an eye as we both know too well. I for one am sorry for the things I said and I know you are too. I know and realize now that the breakup of my marriage so close to your own impending nuptials has probably scared you to death. I’m sorry for that. Really, Chris. And we should have talked more, but talking about things has never been either of our strong points. We are alike in that way, which is one reason why our relationship so many years ago never went beyond sex.

Maybe I’m being selfish in giving up my marriage, but I love space just as much as you do. Not that I don’t love my kids, you know that I do. And it’s not even about not loving Allen anymore, because I do and always will. But I’m not in love with him anymore and haven’t been for a long time, Chris. I spent more time on Earth the last twenty five years than I would have because of my family and I don’t regret that. And if Allen had wanted more kids, I probably would have been content with that, but he didn’t and I’m not one to quietly retire like he wants. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us. I don’t see my marriage as a failure. How could it be? It just ran its course. I’ve made peace with that and I’m sorry, truly sorry, Chris, that it’s affected you so much. I explained a lot of this to Len, when I should have explained it to you. I just feel a lot of the time that you don’t want to listen.

I don’t want you to feel caught in between any of this. I would never expect you to pick sides or change anything. We’ve told everyone there are no sides. Allen will still be at family functions. He will always be my family and I will always be his. We agreed when we started talking of separating a couple of years ago, and yes Chris, it’s been in the works that long, that we weren’t going to let anything interfere with friendships and family and that anyone new in either one of our lives would have to deal with that. No, it’s not that simple and we both know that, but we’re also both committed to making sure it happens.

I’m still here if you need to talk and I’m sorry if I haven’t been as good of a friend as maybe I should have been. But you have always been such a closed off person, Chris. You aren’t exactly one to talk about emotions and life and anything not related to Starfleet. You’ve changed since you started seeing Len. I’m sure it’s a combination of that and what happened on the Narada. I should have been paying more attention, but I had my own issues I was going through. I’m here though, don’t doubt that and since I’ll have a lot of time on my hands sitting here with Chris, I’m happy to listen.

I love you, my friend. I’ll keep you apprised of Chris’s condition. Right now all we can do is pray.

Philip

 

 **To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: Richard Barnett (rbarnett@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Tuesday 2260.358**

Dear Chris,

I’m still looking into the matter we vidcommed about last night before you left the Starbase. I think you’re right, but I can’t talk about it until we can vidcomm again on a private channel. You probably will get this about the time you get new orders. You’re being recalled to patrol New Vulcan as SFI is picking up chatter that something is about to go down in that sector imminently.

By the way, your mother arrived in the city last night with your father in tow to visit Philip and Allen and friends of your father’s who were injured too. I think a few Admirals have suddenly taken leave upon hearing of her arrival. It’s going to be an interesting few weeks.

Comm me when you’re within range again and we’ll talk.

Richard

 

 **Personal Journal of Christopher R. McCoy Pike  
Wednesday 2260.359**

 

It’s Christmas night here on the Exeter and I am sitting at my desk watching my husband. It seems unreal to type that, unreal that he’s really here. Certainly not anything that I expected. He arrived yesterday cranky as hell from a long transport flight. It would have been longer if the Exeter hadn’t been on it’s way to New Vulcan. But he’s here, safe and sound and sleeping after I sucked him dry after a long shift getting acclimated to our medical bay and his new staff.

Of course I took care of that crankiness shortly after he beamed aboard. My senior crew greeted him in the transporter room and then Sato was kind enough to offer to take the conn if I wanted to show him to my quarters and help him settle in. She didn’t have to ask twice. I had him settled face down on our bed with my cock up his ass ten minutes later. Fuck, I missed him. Sometimes I don’t realize just how much until he’s here.

Unfortunately we both had duties to attend to after and I walked him to Medical and went back to work. I had dinner brought to my quarters after shift although we didn’t actually eat it until much later. The minute I walked in he shoved me against the wall and was on his knees sucking my dick until I came down his throat. He then turned me around and fucked me. Right there slamming me into the wall with every thrust. It was so fucking hot. Somehow we crawled into my bathroom after and soaked in the tub for a couple hours. We kissed and reconnected, not really talking much, both just needing to be with each other. Taking will come later. Right now we just need to be with each other.

After our bath, I took him to bed and made love to him properly. Taking my time, kissing every square inch of him, making him come twice before I emptied myself inside him. Being with him, waking up with him this morning was certainly the best Christmas present I could have possibly had. With everything going on, with the worry about Chris fighting for his life so far away, I needed him -- Needed my husband. Needing someone like that is still both a wonderful and terrifying feeling.

Today was spent on duty and with our crew. We had food out all day everywhere. Even on the bridge. Sometimes you just have to make an exception to the rules and with everyone on edge, we certainly needed a bit of holiday spirit. Len and I had little time for each other but we’re both off duty tomorrow and will make the most of it. I don’t plan of letting him out of our bed.


	57. Chapter 51a, Eager Eye and Willing Ear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A porny interlude in which one of our boys suffers a sex-related injury and the other one doesn't get to come at all.

**Title:** Eager Eye and Willing Ear (Part 51a of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Author:**  
skyblue_reverie  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** Light BDSM  
 **Word Count:** Around 2900  
 **Summary:** A porny interlude in which one of our boys suffers a sex-related injury and the other one doesn't get to come at all. I think Jude's evol is rubbing off on me.  
 **A/N:** 300k words, woo hoo! Also, the entire series is now archived at AO3, [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/234076).

"Faster, you bastard."

"Or what?" Chris asked, still maintaining his steady, deliberate pace.

"Or I'll kick your ass," Leonard replied, gasping at a particularly deep stroke.

Chris chuckled. "Yeah, with your knees up around your ears? I'd like to see you try."

Well, he couldn't overlook a challenge like that, now could he? He wrapped one of his legs around Chris's back and tapped him firmly on the left butt cheek with the back of his heel.

Chris just chuckled again, although it had a breathy quality that suggested that perhaps he was reaching the limits of his infamous control, _finally_. "I stand corrected," he said gravely, but with a glint of humor in his eyes.

"Now come _on_ ," Leonard demanded. Or, at least, he was trying for a demand though he suspected that it came out as more of a whine.

"Your wish is my command," Chris said, picking up the pace.

Leonard snorted. If that were the case, they both would've come half an hour ago. He opened his mouth to say so, only Chris snapped his hips fast and hard, hitting that spot inside him just right, and suddenly Len lost his train of thought.

Couldn't have been very important, though, not compared with the slip-slide of sweat-slick skin, the raspy sound of their combined breathing, the rhythmic slap of Chris's balls against his ass, the look of concentration on Chris's face as he focused on driving Len utterly insane, pounding into him so hard that they were both grunting with each stroke.

Len threw his head back, his eyes closing in bliss. God damn, this was perfect, so good, nothing could possibly be better than this, and he was so close, even with nothing more than the stimulation of Chris's lightly furred abdomen rubbing against his cock.

"Len, look at me." Chris's voice brooked no disobedience.

Len groaned, but pulled himself back from the brink, opened his eyes, and looked at Chris. This was fast becoming a _thing_ between them, Chris's need for Len to look at him when he came.

Never mind that sometimes Len enjoyed his orgasm more with his eyes closed - he could focus on the sensations, sounds and scents better that way. No, Chris wanted to see Len's face when he came - or, more to the point, Len suspected, he wanted to make sure that Len saw _Chris's_.

Len didn't know how Chris could imagine that he could possibly be thinking of anyone or anything but Chris when they were together, whether or not his eyes were open. When they were like this, Chris was his entire universe, everything. Nothing else existed. He tried to project that feeling through his wide-open eyes, tried to give the reassurance that Chris would never have accepted if it were given in words.

Chris's face relaxed, so Len must've succeeded. Then the corner of Chris's mouth turned up in that half-smile, half-smirk that made Len want to either roll his eyes or kiss it right off of his smug face. Possibly both. He snaked his arm around the back of Chris's neck, trying to tug him down into a kiss, but Chris refused to budge, his smirk growing wider. Leonard narrowed his eyes and prepared to let loose a stream of invective, only Chris suddenly at that moment found reserves of strength and endurance that Len hadn't known he had, and he started pounding even more ferociously, now taking Len's cock in his hand and stripping it ruthlessly.

There was sweat dripping from the short ends of Chris's hair onto Len's face and his eyes were the deepest shade of blue Leonard had ever seen them. Suddenly the agony-bliss of Chris's thrusts and the rough strokes on his cock were too much and Len was howling, convulsing, his entire soul, it seemed, pouring out in torrents that pulsed through his heart, balls, and out his dick.

He whited out, aware that his chest was still rising and falling, but totally incapable of focusing on anything except the feeling of being completely wrung out, or maybe caught by the tide, tumbled over and over until he was deposited on the shore, trembling and overcome.

When he came back to himself, the first thing he noticed was that Chris was still looming over him with that goddamn smirk on his face. The second thing he noticed was that Chris's iron bar of a dick was still inside of him, feeling like it was splitting him in two. He groaned. Apparently Chris wasn't done yet.

Chris's smirk widened into a grin. "Now that we've taken care of that, I think I'll go back to my previous pace. With your permission, of course."

It wasn't really a question but Leonard waved one hand in acquiescence anyway. They didn't usually get to do this - their time together was usually so limited, and their lovemaking so explosive, that they came within seconds of each other, Leonard's orgasm usually setting off Chris's.

But this - this was a luxury they were both enjoying, even if neither would ever say so out loud. Len loved watching Chris like this, when his own urgency had subsided, and he could just focus on Chris, the way various emotions flitted across his face, there and gone almost too fast to identify. Chris's cock was a sweet ache in his ass, sliding in and out at the leisurely pace Chris was setting. Len felt loose, lazy, flexible. Pliant.

And judging by the catch in Chris's breathing and the hunger in his eyes, Chris knew exactly how Len was feeling, and approved.

"We've got all day," Chris said, low and gravelly. "Not letting you out of this bed. Gonna keep you naked and ready for me all day long. Gonna fuck you over and over, make you take my cock until you beg for mercy. You want that, baby?"

Len groaned. "You know I do."

Chris raised an eyebrow and gazed at him speculatively. "Hmm, wonder if I can keep this going - " he demonstrated "this" with a wicked twist of his hips that left Leonard gasping - "until you're hard and ready again. What do you think, baby - would you like that?"

Leonard just whimpered, and Chris correctly interpreted that as an affirmative.

"Okay, honey, going to fuck you until you come again. But your legs are going to cramp up if you stay in this position much longer. So I'm gonna pull out and you're going to roll over onto your stomach for me. Then I'm going to straddle your hips and stuff that tight ass full of my cock again. Got it?"

Leonard was beyond the ability to respond, but as soon as Chris pulled out with a slick, wet slurp, he rolled onto his stomach and pillowed his head on his folded arms.

Now it was Chris's turn to groan. "Fuck, baby, you look so good like this, just waiting for my dick. Gotta get back inside you."

An hour later, and Leonard was nearly out of his mind, gasping with every slow, deep thrust, no longer sure whether he felt pleasure or pain.

No - wait. Pain. That was definitely pain. "Chris, stop." It came out slightly strangled.

Chris didn't even pause, the bastard. "Not unless you safeword. Jesus, Len, you feel so good. I could do this all day long."

That was exactly what Len was afraid of. Still, he gritted his teeth. At this point it was a matter of pride. He could take whatever Chris could dish out.

Or maybe not. Barely a handful of strokes later and he found himself gasping, "Georgia."

Chris shuddered to a halt, buried to the hilt inside of him. He felt Chris's forehead, damp with sweat, come to rest on his shoulder blade. For a few moments, there was only the sound of heavy breathing.

"Should I pull out?" Chris asked.

"Yeah. Slowly."

Slowly might've been a mistake, as he felt every centimeter of Chris's length rasping against raw, abraded flesh. He inhaled sharply and fisted his hands in the sheets against the pain. There was a final excruciating stretch as the large head of Chris's cock was pulled through his hole, and then, blessed relief. He exhaled slowly.

"Are you all right?" Chris sounded a bit worried, now that his haze of lust had receded.

"I’ll be fine. Gimme a minute," Leonard gritted.

It was more than a minute, but Chris waited patiently - or, at least, he didn't demand a status update after precisely sixty seconds. Leonard would take it. With Chris that was about as patient as it got.

"Should I get your portable regen unit?" Almost a minute and a half. That must've been some sort of record, and Len nearly chuckled despite the pain.

"Yeah. It's in the side pocket of my bag," he said, refocusing on Chris’s words.

Len felt Chris get out of bed gingerly, careful not to jostle him any more than necessary. A few seconds later, and he felt the familiar contours of the regen unit being pressed into his palm. He propped himself up on his elbows, setting a short healing cycle on the controls and then he handed it back to Chris. "Stick the business end up against my anus so it's in contact and then press the start button."

Chris snickered slightly at the blunt instructions, but did as he was told. The relief was nearly instantaneous. Len let out a relieved sigh and collapsed flat on the mattress, groaning.

"How long before I can fuck you again?" Chris asked, although fortunately it was simple curiosity in his voice rather than irritation or impatience, or Len would've felt the urge to smack him.

"Couple hours," Len said. "The new skin will need time to settle a bit, lose the initial tenderness and gain elasticity."

"Hmm. What should we do in the meantime?" Chris's voice was suggestive.

Len huffed a laugh. "I don't know how you have energy to even think about sex," he said. "At this rate, I'm going to start thinking you've been sneaking extra workouts." He'd meant it facetiously, but the sudden stillness behind him was telling.

He huffed another laugh, this one slightly bitter. "If you're expecting a lecture, don't worry. I'm too worn out."

"Len, I - " Chris's voice was defensive, but also strangely hesitant.

"Don't," Len said wearily, cutting him off. "Not now. I just got here. I don't want to fight yet. All right?"

He felt Chris's free hand settle gingerly on his shoulder and begin a light, soothing stroking motion. It was the closest he was going to get to an apology.

The beep of the regen unit finishing its cycle was loud in the silence of the room. Chris gently removed it, and he heard the _clink_ of it being set on the night stand. Then he felt the bed dip, and Chris's warmth radiated all along his side. One of Chris's hands settled on the small of his back.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," Chris said quietly. Len wondered if he meant the fucking or the fact that he'd put his own health at risk, _again_. Maybe both. Chris's thumbs stroked small circles against his spine and Leonard sighed. He knew by now that he was going to have to be the one to step up and smooth things over between them. He was the grown-up in this relationship, despite the twenty-two years that Chris had on him.

"I know. It's okay," he said. And it was.

He felt the stiff body pressed against his relax, but Chris said nothing. Typical, really. Was there anyone more emotionally stunted than Chris? Well, yeah, actually - Spock. Thank God he didn't have to deal with that level of repression. He had his hands full enough as it was.

"What are you thinking about?" Chris's voice cut through his musings.

"Spock," he answered.

There was a beat of silence. "Should I be worried here?" It was said with mild humor, but Len still heard the undercurrent of steel in Chris’s voice.

Len snorted. "Hell, no. You know me better than that."

"Just making sure. May I ask why you were thinking about him?" The "while you're in bed with me" was unsaid but Len still heard it.

"Just comparing you to him. Favorably, in case you were wondering."

"Hmm. Coming from you, that's not much of a compliment. I think I've been damned by faint praise." Chris sounded somewhat disgruntled.

“If you don't like my train of thought, you could distract me, you know," Len said.

"Oh? What kind of distraction did you have in mind?"

Len rolled over onto his side, propped himself on one elbow, and casually started stroking his own cock, which stood to attention immediately. He raised an eyebrow at Chris. "I think turnabout is fair play, don't you? Get on your stomach for me."

Chris complied, but he did it slowly enough to make a point. Something about his dominance and how he was choosing to submit to Len for the moment, no doubt. Leonard didn't even bother to roll his eyes at that kind of posturing anymore. Instead, he ignored it in favor of focusing on the broad expanse of skin newly-revealed by Chris's change in position.

Len rose to his knees and straddled Chris's thighs, leaning forward enough so that his stiff cock rested in the crevice of Chris's ass. He ran the tips of his fingers over Chris's back, lightly, teasingly. He heard Chris inhale as he fought to suppress his reaction. He probably considered it a weakness to be ticklish. Another time, Len might've pushed that, just to see if he could make Chris break down and laugh. He had a different agenda right now, though.

He let his touch become firmer, more sensuous. He loved Chris's back, the well-muscled shoulders tapering perfectly to a trim waist, the skin not as taut as it once had been, but just as pleasing to Len’s eyes and fingers. The curve of his spine was a thing of beauty, and Len ran his fingers up and down the valley of Chris's vertebral column a few times.

Chris's back showed his strength - but his fragility, too. Len could see the scar tissue at the base of his spine from the repeated surgeries Chris had endured. He didn't let his fingers linger there, though, knowing that Chris hated any reminder of what he'd been through since the Narada.

Then Chris thrust his ass up against Len’s groin, breaking the mood of solemn contemplation. “Planning on fucking me sometime today, Doctor?” he asked.

Len grumbled but leaned over to the side to retrieve the bottle of lube sitting on the nightstand. He slicked up his fingers and shoved one roughly into Chris’s passage. Chris murmured in satisfaction and wriggled a little, so Len added a second finger, twisting them, fucking them in and out of Chris hard and fast. He was about to add a third when Chris said, “Enough prep. Get your dick inside of me.”

“Pushy bottom, aren’t you?” Len said, but he slicked up his cock and lined up with the tight pucker of Chris’s hole.

“Hi, Pot, my name is Kettle,” Chris replied. Len snorted and shoved home in one hard thrust, in retaliation.

Chris gasped and Len smirked. He leaned over to the side where Chris’s cheek was pressed into the pillow and contemplated the bared stretch of neck for a moment; then, choosing his spot, he leaned in and sucked hard, knowing full well that he’d be leaving a mark where no one could miss it, just above the collar of Chris’s uniform. Fairly near his Admiral’s pips, actually. Len leaned back and admired his handiwork before resuming his deep strokes into Chris’s ass. “You know, darlin’,” he said, “I’ve got half a mind to hit the broadcast button on your comm unit and let the entire ship get first-hand knowledge of how much their captain likes taking it up the ass from his CMO.”

Chris groaned. “You do, and I’ll have to jettison you onto the nearest ice planet.” His threat was somewhat undermined by the way he was now humping up eagerly to meet Len’s downward thrusts.

The contradiction was so very _Chris_ and Len laughed suddenly, feeling happier than he had in months. For now, anyway, he was exactly where he wanted to be. The future would come soon enough, so he was going to grab this moment and milk it for all it was worth. He leaned forward, braced himself with his hands on either side of Chris’s shoulders, and started fucking him in earnest, enjoying the sharp cry Chris couldn’t quite suppress. Hell yeah. Life was good.


	58. 52, Turning a Little Blue

**Title:** Turning a Little Blue (Part 52 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Author:** and   
**Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy   
**Rating:** R  
 **Spoilers:** None   
**Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count:** Around 3000  
 **Summary:** The continuing correspondence of... yeah, you know the drill.  
 **A/N:** From (the evol one): None of this is Sky's fault. I take full blame for what you are about to be subjected to. From (the pervy one): True! I was lazy this week and made my co-writer do everything.

 

 **To James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Friday 2260.361**

Dear Jim,

Happy New Year! Although with us fairly close you will probably get this sooner, but I probably won’t get a chance to write again for a while. We’re a day away from New Vulcan and will be patrolling the area for the foreseeable future.

I’m not quite sure where else to start this so let me just say this -- I’m feeling guilty as hell right now being so happy at having Len on the Exeter with me. I’ll even admit I was hoping that if you lost your command that would happen. I could also confess to a lot more thoughts that I’m ashamed of, but I’m sure you guessed a lot of them already. Despite my feelings, son, I did vote in favor of you retaining your command. As I said before, you did nothing different than I would have done -- What _any_ good Captain would have done. And if any of those stuffed shirt admirals who have never served a moment in space had -- Well, don’t get me started.

Before I move on, I want to say that I had nothing to do with my parents getting involved in your situation. You have Len to thank for that. At the time I had been avoiding my mom -- Well, I’m still avoiding her, over wedding plans. I also want you to know that I am digging to find out if there is anything underhanded going on with taking Len off the Enterprise. I was just as surprised as you were to get the orders. I had no prior knowledge and neither did Admiral Barnett. I wouldn’t do that to you, son. I hope you know that.

I also know that having Len here isn’t permanent -- Even if I’d want it to be. It might be awhile, because Philip is certainly not going to leave Txanton until he’s recovered -- If he recovers. That’s still hard to type, but the last report I got from Philip and after having Len read the medical reports -- Well, it doesn’t look good right now.

Len and I had a good Christmas. I know he was missing you and is worried about you. But I hope knowing that he was happy and had a good time with my crew will somehow help you. It used to help me knowing he was happy and safe with you on the Enterprise. I certainly wouldn’t want him anywhere else -- Well, except with me of course. Again, I’m feeling guilty right now for being so happy having him here when I know you are probably miserable. I’m sorry, Jim. I really am.

I’m at a loss for what else to say right now. It’s hard being so happy right now but at the same time, I’m worried about my godson. I’m worried about more bombings. I found out Christmas Eve that an old friend of mine from years ago was a victim in the bombing. I’m not at all happy that apparently ‘Fleet Intelligence knew something was coming but issued no warnings and waited until something happened before recalling half the fleet. While I know terrorists can still strike no matter what precautions are taken, it’s ridiculous that the first word we get is after something happens. I know they are more worried about the Romulans and Klingons, and rightfully so, but dammit they should know by now that this is exactly the kind of situation that Terra Prime would exploit.

I hope you know that certain members of the Admiralty wanted to recall the Reliant and leave the Enterprise the only ship patrolling the neutral zone. Luckily that was shot down by the more sensible members. Idiots. And you wonder why I wasn’t so eager to take a desk job? I’d go crazy dealing with them on a daily basis. It’s bad enough reading the briefs.

I’m going to get some sleep now. Len has already thrown himself into work and is setting up the research lab to his specifications. I have gamma tonight so I need to at least get a few hours.

Take care of yourself, son. Len isn’t the only one worried about you, you know.

Love,

Chris

P.S. Would you do me a favor and drop Kianna a line? I’m worried about how she’s coping with her brother and the bombing. She always lights up when you are around and I think she could use it right now.

 

 **To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
Date sent: Tuesday 2260.365**

 

Booooooonnnnnnnnnnneeeesssssssssss!!!

Happy New Year, man! You are missing a STELLAR par-tay! Scotty went all out this year. I’m not sure what’s in his latest concoction but it’s sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet. Everything looks green. And orange. And wait, I think I see PURPLE too. We have music from the twentieth and twenty first centuries blasting. I’m attaching a song you HAVE to listen to, man. Or wait, I should send you the video.

AUDIO TRANSMISSION BEGINS:

[Capt. James Kirk]: OH SHIT I think I just turned on audio recording. Even better. Yeah! Even SPOCK was dancing to it. And half the crew was falling on the floor which damn, was pretty ironic for the song. It’s by a group that was called Chumbawamba… What the fuck kind of name is that? Sounds like the name of one of those creatures that chased me on Delta Vega. Wait, or not. I have never laughed so hard dancing. We were literally ROLLING on the floor. And then people just started dropping to the floor every time the song said ‘I get knocked down’ EVEN SPOCK DID BONES! Sadly, people couldn’t follow the ‘but I get up again’ because we are all TOO FUCKING DRUNK. Oh SHIT, Chekov is now standing on a table and stripping to some song by a guy named Joe COCKer. SERIOUSLY BONES. WHO HAS A NAME LIKE THAT? COCK! COCK COCK! WOW Chekov has some serious moves dude! I didn’t know hips could do that! And why the hell would you leave your hat on? This song makes no sense. HOLY SHIT! Chekov has on a bright pink g-string!!!!!!!!!! I am TOTALLY sending you a vid of this. WOW. Sulu just dragged Chekov out of the room. I really didn’t need to know how well endowed Chekov is FUCK. HOW CAN SOMEONE SO SMALL HAVE A DICK LIKE THAT? OH WAIT, I HAVE TO GO DANCE TO THIS ONE.

[two minute pause]

[Capt. James Kirk]: E-VRY-BODY’S WORK-ing FOR THE WEEK-end! EVRY-BODY’S GOing OFF the DEEP END!

[one minute of heavy breathing noises]

[Capt. James Kirk]: Man Bones, I’m glad I’m talking to you because I needed a fucking break from all this fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuun. Loverboy? Man, I should start a band with that name since I’m the quintessential loverboy. What do you think Bones? Will you join my band when you come back? Wait, do you even play anything? FUCK. Well, I can teach you. Although I don’t know if it will be a good idea. Spock would probably want to join and play that that, fuck I forgot what’s its called. And sorry, but that would just NOT BE MY SOUND. I wonder if I could get away with growing my hair out? I mean who’s going to see us? What do you think Bones? Think I’d look good with long hair? Have you seen some of those ‘hair’ bands from the 20th century? Long flowing golden hair! WICKED COOL. Come to think of it, you’d look good with long hair too. What do you say Bones? Though I don’t think you could pull off the blond hair. I could see your hair red. YEAH. COME ON BONES IT WOULD BE AWESOME. Oh shit man, Spock just went over to Keenser who’s DJ’ing and now some slow shit is coming on. Hey, did you know that Spock and Uhura have been fighting? I even heard HIM yelling. I think that was the first time I ever heard Spock yell. Well, except when he was about to strangle me but that was more of a roar I think. Anyway, I think Spock is trying to make up or something because he just asked for a slow song to play and Scotty ordered the lights dimmed. I’m glad I haven’t eaten, man. I think I want to throw up now. JESUS, ALL THESE PEOPLE JOINING THEM SLOW DANCING? What is up with that? Shit, I need another drink. Be right back. Oh wait, I’m the Captain, I don’t need to go get a drink, I have yeomans for that. WOMAN GET ME A DRINK. MAKE IT A DOUBLE OF THAT GOOD STUFF BONES DRINKS. Fuck, there are some weird lights shining around the room now. They are making me dizzy. I don’t think that’s good considering I’m sitting down. What the fuck kind of lyrics are these? I can’t make them out. Can alcohol make you deaf Bones? Hold on, let me look them up.

[pause]

[Capt. James Kirk]: I’m all out of LOVE, I’m so lost withOUT you, I know you were right, believing for SO LONG! I’m all out of love! What am I withOUT you? I can’t be too late to say that I WAS SO WRONG! Fuck Bones. You’re coming back to me right? I didn’t do something to piss you off to make you leave, right? Shit. This song is so true. I am lost without you, Bones. It’s no fun drinking alone. Shit, not even the drinking. Just that being alone part. And that’s what I am. Alone. Alonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnneeeeee. Spock doesn’t even want to play chess lately. Uhura isn’t even swearing at me in forty languages when I flirt with her. Scotty is obsessed with some new project he’s working on. Sulu and Chekov are so busy making googly eyes at each other and spending every moment together that the fencing lessons Sulu was giving me aren’t happening. What the fuck man? I’m sounding like a morose bastard. OH MY GOD I’M TURNING INTO YOU. SEE WHAT YOU HAVE DONE TO ME! GOD DAMMIT. OH MY GOD I DID IT AGAIN. I’M YOU! I need to get laid. Do you know how long it’s been, Bones? Since your engagement party. I CAN SEE YOU SHAKING YOUR HEAD AT ME. IT’S THE TRUTH. Fuck. I can’t stay in here anymore. They are playing more slow songs. Hold on.

[transmission paused]

[Capt. James Kirk]: Okay, I’m in your quarters now. Shit, should I have told you that? Fuck, I’m drunk. I won’t remember this right? I’ve been coming in your quarters and sleeping on your couch sometimes. I can’t sleep, Bones. I haven’t been able to sleep more than a couple hours at a time since you left. I even went to see Chapel the other day to ask for something and she told me and I quote, “Dr. McCoy isn’t here and since he isn’t I don’t have to put up with your juvenile excuses to come in here and bother the staff. So unless you are bleeding or something is falling off, which wouldn’t surprise me by the way” - and she was looking pointedly at my crotch - “stay out of my sickbay.” I should have brought her up on insubordination, Bones! I was so shocked though that I just left. I mean, I’m not that bad am I? Shit, maybe I am. Maybe that’s why I’m all alone. No one likes me, Bones. You’re the only one that likes me. And now you’re gone. You’re probably not coming back either are you. I guess I don’t blame you. Shit. Sorry. I am probably bothering you with this too aren’t I? Maybe I’ll just delete it. This little green one here is delete right? Oh wait, shi-

[TRANSMISSION ENDS.]

 

 **To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
Date sent: Tuesday 2261.001**

Bones,

Happy New Year, man. Boy am I hungover. It’s not quiet the same without you here bitching at me though. I, um, might have sent a drunken comm earlier. If you haven’t listened yet, um, well, could you just delete it? Really, Bones. Just hit delete. I don’t even remember what I said but I’m sure it was nothing good. I can’t bring myself to listen. But if you have already listened and I said something bad, I’m sorry. I was pretty drunk. I woke up face down on the floor of your quarters. Don’t even know how I got there.

Anyway, sorry. I hope you had a good New Year with Chris.

Jim

 

 **To: Philip Boyce (pboyce@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: 2261.002 **

Dear Philip,

I cannot begin to comprehend what you are going through. I’m struggling with frustration and helplessness every time Len updates me. All I can say is that I’m glad he’s here with me – It helps to have someone you love share the burden with you. I’ve never had that before, and it hurts me that you may not have the support you need right now. I would say that I wish I could be there with you, but considering I’ve never been a very good friend in the first place, I probably wouldn’t help much.

Just know that you, Allen and my godson are in my constant prayers. The Exeter had a candlelight vigil the other night, all night, in the rec room, that people wandered in and out of before and after shifts for all the victims of this tragedy. It was both heartbreaking and uplifting. Just know we are all thinking of you.

I’m glad Allen is going to be okay. I commed him a couple of days ago and he already wrote me back. He seems to be holding up as well as can be expected. He’s worried about you, as am I. I know from experience that throwing yourself into work can be cathartic and needed, but just make sure you are taking care of yourself. And yes, I know me saying that is very hypocritical.

I’m at a loss for what else to say. I want to thank you for what you said in your comm. You’re a better friend than I deserve, Philip. I’m sorry. I hope that I can start being a better person, a better friend. Yes, I know how emotionally shut off I was. Am. I think that’s why I’m having such a hard time with everything. I guess the best way to describe how I feel at times is that I’m suffocating. And I don’t mean that in necessarily a bad way. It’s just so overwhelming at times to feel so much – The way I feel for Len, sometimes I literally feel like I’m not sure if I can take another breath. That probably doesn’t make sense, but it’s the best way I can put it into words.

Len and I haven’t even really talked yet. I know we need to. I’m probably being a coward for distracting him with other things every time he tries, usually muttering something under his breath. It’s not like I’ve seen him much either. We’re working different shifts right now, and we’ve been so busy with our new orders. I’m probably just making excuses, and I know I need to schedule time for us to really talk. I just don’t know how limited his time will be here and I don’t want to spend it fighting with him. I know it will turn into a fight. What did you do with Allen at times like that? Is it really possible to discuss things without fighting? Is it just us?

Richard said something when I talked to him earlier - that they are trying to find a more permanent solution to your leave. He was called into a meeting before he could explain, but I can’t help but wonder if you’ve changed your mind and aren’t coming back? I also might have mentioned to him last week that I was worried whether Len and I would be able to work together without irreparably damaging our relationship. I know until Chris is back on his feet - and I truly believe he will be - that you won’t be back. I would throw you off if you tried. While I certainly want you back, I want you to know that if you need to stay on Earth, I understand. And no, this isn’t me trying to get you to stay to save your marriage now. What you’ve said and talking to Len, I get it. It’s sinking in. That doesn’t mean that I’m still not -- I don’t know what the word is -- disillusioned maybe? I felt the same when I was a teenager and found out my father had been married before. Between that and joining Starfleet the next year, that was the beginning of our estrangement. I don’t want that to happen to us, Philip. I’m sorry if the way I’ve been acting was making it head that way.

Shit, you know I’m not good at this stuff, but you’ve been a good friend to me all these years, Philip. My best friend if I’ll admit it. I never thought I really needed friends, yet somehow you stuck by me. I have hundreds of acquaintances, but honestly not many friends. Thank you for that. I don’t feel caught between you and Allen. Probably because neither of you have made me feel that way. I hope that doesn’t change. Whatever you need, Philip, I hope you know I’m there for you. I will admit that I’m not really sure what do to right now. Just take care of yourself and keep me updated.

Love,

Chris


	59. 53 - Cut Us Another Slice

Hi guys:

Well, a sad announcement - I'm going to be pulling out of To Talk of Many Things. I've just got too much going on in my RL, and the fic is starting to feel like an obligation instead of a joy, and writing shouldn't be like that, y'know? It's supposed to be my happy place, not another source of stress.

Anyway, I wanted to thank you all for coming on the ride so far and say sorry for leaving!

But - might be persuaded to continue, if she had a new co-writer. She doesn't want to take it all on by herself (don't blame her!) but if anyone out there is interested, PM her or drop a comment here. And hey, maybe the show will go on after all!

Anyway, without further ado, here's the (for now) final part:

 **Title:** Cut Us Another Slice (Part 53 of _To Talk of Many Things_ )  
 **Author:** ,   
**Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy   
**Rating:** NC-17  
 **Spoilers:** None   
**Warnings:** Light BDSM  
 **Word Count:** Around 2700  
 **Summary:** The further correspondence of... well, everyone, basically.  
 **A/N:** Thanks so much for all your support through this adventure!

 

 **To: Christine Chapel (cchapel@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Thursday 2261.002 **

Christine -

What the hell? You kicked Jim out of sickbay and told him not to come back unless parts of him were falling off? What part of "look after him" wasn't clear?

You know that when Jim needs downtime, he goes to sickbay. It's the only place outside of his own quarters that he can just be himself, not have to be the Captain. I know you know this. What I can't figure out is why you'd take that away from him.

Even if you can't stand him - and you and I both know that's not the case (yeah, I'm not as oblivious as I seem) - put up with him for my sake, all right?

Look, here's what I do. If he's being especially irritating, I tell him do so some pointless and unpleasant chore, like taking everything out of my desk, scrubbing all the drawers until they're spotless, and then putting everything back exactly where he found it. If he leaves rather than do it, I know he didn't really need to be there. But if he does it, no matter how much he bitches about it, then he needs to be there. I keep a few tasks undone so I can assign them to him if he shows up. Nothing that would endanger patient health, of course. You're creative, I'm sure you can figure out things to make him do. You don't even have to talk to him - just grunt once in a while during his monologues.

Please, Christine. You promised me you'd take care of him for me. So go fix this. Or I'll sic Nyota on you.

-Len

 

 **To: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Thursday 2261.002 **

Dear Jim,

Jesus, you don't do anything by halves, do you? That was quite the drunken comm you sent. And before you ask, I'd already listened to it by the time I got your comm begging me to just delete it. Not that I would've anyway.

Can I just say - hallelujah, finally I have discovered one goddamn thing that the great James Kirk has absolutely no talent at. Jim, you couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. Although it's mighty entertaining to hear you try, if more than a little painful. I don't think you'll be fronting a successful music group in this lifetime. My advice: stick with space exploration. And I say that for the good of every sentient being with functioning auditory organs.

Sounds like it was one hell of a blowout party, though. Sorry I missed it - well, except for the part about Chekov in a hot pink g-string. Good lord.

As for the other stuff you said, if you even remember any of it - damn it, Jim, you know I'm no good at this emotional shit. But I did _not_ leave you, you idiot. You didn't do anything wrong, I'm not pissed at you, and your crew does not hate you. Hell, everyone on that ship adores you. They'd follow you into the mouth of hell. Come to think of it, they do, fairly regularly.

I'm sorry for the things Christine said to you, but I ripped her a new one so it shouldn't happen again. She didn't mean it anyway. But you really should have written her up for insubordination. You're the goddamn captain, it's your sickbay as much as it is hers.

Wait, I take that back. It's _my_ goddamn sickbay, and you all are just taking care of it for me until I get back. And you have my permission to hang out there whenever you want, at least until I'm back to kick your sorry ass out myself. So don't let her run you out of there again.

Nothing much to report from here. We had a quiet New Year in Chris's quarters. Don't worry, I'm not going to give you any details. I can practically see you squinching your face up and covering your ears with your hands. Infant.

Chris is worried about his godson, naturally, and there's not much he can do about the situation, which drives him insane. So he's burying himself in work to keep distracted.

Well, that's about it for now. I'll write again soon. Don't do anything too stupid in the meantime.

-Bones

 

 **To: Hikaru Sulu (hsulu@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Thursday 2261.002 **

Sulu -

How are you going to keep watch on the captain for me if you never tear your eyes away from your boyfriend? I don't care how many extra shower water rations Jim promised you, you keep an eye on him and for god's sake start up the fencing lessons again. You owe me big time - you know exactly why. Time to pay the piper.

-McCoy

 

 **To: Nyota Uhura (nuhura@starfleet.gov)  
From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Thursday 2261.002 **

Dear Nyota,

How’s everyone there on the Enterprise? I'm worried about Jim. He says you don't react to his flirting anymore. I know you're probably just trying to go easy on him with me gone, but please don't. You're freaking him out. As a favor to me, just treat him like you always have, all right? I bet you've been itching to let loose at him for some fool thing he said recently anyway. Don't hold back. Give in to it. Have fun.

How are things with Spock? Any progress on the baby issue? You know I'll support you whatever you decide to do. And so will Jim, no matter how much of an insensitive jerk he can seem to be sometimes.

Things are fine here although, good god, it's a trial to live with a lover who's so repressed he couldn't show an emotion even if ordered to at phaser-point. Yeah, I know I'm preaching to the choir.

I'll write again soon. Stay safe, darlin'.

-Len

 

 **Personal Journal of Christopher R. McCoy Pike  
Monday 2261.006**

 

It’s been a quiet few days here on the Exeter. I have to admit that I’m relieved it’s been quiet. While SFI isn’t sharing much, they did have us on the highest security alert through the New Year holiday so they obviously must have had a reason. It’s lowered now, but I still have the Exeter on standby alert. We can’t afford to not be ready. Shifts have been extended. Crew rotations adjusted. Terra Prime is up to something – I just know it. I hope for once I’m wrong.

The only bad thing about this, is Len and I are on opposite shifts right now. I want either me or Sato on the bridge at all times. We can’t even afford the minutes it would take one of us to get there. My crew is good, they’ve come along nicely, but they are still too green. I trust Sato and my secondary bridge crew. So for now bridge and engineering senior crew are rotating twelve hour shifts.

It’s good in some ways. It’s keeping me busy. Keeping my mind off of things. I am sure I am annoying the hell out of Len, but we’re coping. We still haven’t talked. Now, I really can blame work interfering. Some days it’s not much more than a hello and goodbye or a quick dinner after he’s done and I’m due on the bridge. Okay, maybe more like a quick fuck, but we did spend a couple memorable hours together last night.

I told him to cut out of medical an hour early, and I told Sato I was starting an hour late. We needed it after a week of not even being able to curl up together. When he got to our quarters, I ordered him to strip and get on the bed. I could tell that he wanted to protest, but he rolled his eyes and stripped while I stood and watched. I told him to sit up against the headboard then I grabbed the silk restraints from the drawer and tied his hands to it. His eyes got wide when I brought another silk cloth out and tied it around his mouth. I wasn’t in the mood to hear his bitching about how fast or slow I was going. He was going to go at my speed, be at my mercy. He did of course have a few choice words before I gagged him though. I don’t think he was very amused when I laughed at him either.

Once I was satisfied his hands were secure and I wasn’t going to get any lip from him, I stood at the end of the bed and slowly stripped. He was a sight to see, sitting there naked, his cock half hard, his nipples hardening as I stripped. When I was naked and turned around, so he could see the butt plug in my ass, the groan I heard from his throat almost made me forget what I was doing. I turned around and slowly started touching myself – My nipples, my stomach, and then I grabbed my cock, not taking my eyes off of him and started jerking off. Slowly, tauntingly, twisting my nipple with the other hand. I loved watching him get hard, watching the color of his skin changing, flushing as I fisted my cock. While I couldn’t take my eyes off of him, he couldn’t take his eyes off my cock, though they’d occasionally follow my other hand up as I moved it up and down my chest and stomach. I took my time. Telling him he wasn’t allowed to come. I stood there at the end of the bed with my legs slightly spread, panting, moaning, saying god knows what to him at times until I finally came all over the end of the bed.

By that time his dick was so hard that I swear I thought he was going to come. I warned him again not to as I removed the butt plug and crawled up the bed straddling him. His eyes grew wide as I sank down, slowly, so slowly on his cock. I literally saw his eyes roll to the back of his head. And knowing I did that to him – Knowing I have that power, fuck, it was one of the hottest things I’d ever seen. I rode him slowly at first, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to come again, but my skin and body were still practically humming from my orgasm. And then his cock, fuck I swear his cock was made for me. So perfect, and curved just right so he was hitting my prostate every time I slid back down on him. It was literally like having a small orgasm every time.

I was so caught up in those feelings, my head thrown back, riding up and down on him, that I’d forgotten that I told him he couldn’t come. He was practically screaming underneath his gag when I finally opened my eyes and looked at him, sweating, gorgeous, _desperate_ and ordered him to come. He jerked up into me and exploded and I swear it was like riding a bucking bronco as he came and screamed deep in his throat and jesus. I’m so hard right now I bet I could rub myself a couple of times and come. But I’m not going to. Because next time I come, I plan to be inside him. I may have to wake myself up early tomorrow and pay a visit to his office during lunch. I think it’s high time I push him down on the desk and fuck him hard.

 

 **To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Tuesday 2261.007**

 

Dear Chris,

It doesn’t take a genius level repeat offender to know how you really felt about losing my command. Honestly, it didn’t bother me as much as I expected it to. Maybe because at this point I almost expect it... And don’t take that the wrong way. I know you’re proud of me. I know you love me. And I can’t honestly say that if the shoe was on the other foot, I wouldn’t be the same way. Heck, I probably wouldn’t even be as nice about it. So don’t think I don’t appreciate your honestly. In some ways I respect that. I don’t think any less of you, Chris. I hope that makes sense to you.

Things in the neutral zone are pretty quiet right now. Too quiet. There hasn’t been any inkling of any Romulan or Klingon activity. After speaking with Captain Decker of Reliant, we’ve asked for permission to patrol the edges to see if our sensors can pick up anything but we were denied. In fact the latest scuttlebutt is they may recall Reliant and leave us the only ship out here for the foreseeable future. We both think that’s a mistake. I realize that Terra Prime is the main concern right now, but that’s exactly what either the Romulans or Klingons would love to exploit and take advantage of. But what do I know. I’m apparently only good for publicity and never should have had a ship in the first place.

I also want to let you know that I’ve commed Kianna a few times since I received your comm. She seems okay to me, but of course I don’t know her as well as you do. We have kept in touch pretty regularly though since I first met her. She’s a good kid, Chris and I wouldn’t worry too much. We all process things differently and you can’t expect something like this to happen and for her not to change a little. She talks about him all the time… So I know they were especially close. But she has good friends at The Academy and I reminded her to take advantage of the Mental Health department if she needed a safe place to talk. Yes, I realize that is hypocritical of me considering I wouldn’t ever set foot in that building, but Kianna is different and I think she will. Besides, don’t tell her I told you, but I think there is a third year psych student she has a crush on. I told her this would be a good excuse to spend more time in that building so she could ‘casually’ run into him. You’re welcome.

I’m doing okay. I had a nice quiet birthday. I told the crew under no circumstances was there to be any celebrating or mention and for once they abided by that. I’m not going to lie and say that I don’t miss Bones something fierce, but it was nice to vidcomm with him for a few minutes, hear him wish me Happy Birthday and know he means it. He did make me eat a piece of cake he had my yeoman bring up during our chat. Otherwise, I just worked my shift, helped Scotty with some upgrades to the phaser systems, and then watched a holovid in my quarters before falling asleep. I didn’t even have anything to drink which I’m sure will be alarming to Bones. At least I wasn’t lying in a biobed this year.

Well, it’s time for my regularly scheduled vidcomm with Captain Decker so I’d better head to my ready room. Matt’s an okay guy, but he just doesn’t get my sense of humor. Apparently it’s an acquired taste.

Take care, old man. Looking forward to seeing you on Risa next month. Until then, be safe.

Love,

Jim

P.S. Quit working so hard and spend time with your husband. You wanted him on your ship so damn badly, so quit ignoring him, idiot.


	60. The Walrus and the Carpenter

**Title:** The Walrus and the Carpenter (Part 54 of To Talk of Many Things)  
 **Author:** mga1999  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating** : NC-17  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count** : Around 2700  
 **Summary:** The continuing correspondence of... yeah, you know the drill.  
 **Disclaimer:** Any resemblance to anything whatsoever is purely coincidental.  
 **Authors' Notes** : *peeks out of closet* So um, hi. I'm starting this up again, going it alone. *meep* I apologize in advance that Bones is no longer going to be the 'Bones' that skybluereverie so lovingly created. But I promise to stay true to the story we dreamed up (Well, with more evol of course, it IS me. *g*) and finish this out. I can't tell you how often I will be able to update, but the next part is almost done so it shouldn't be too long as long as you still want to read it. *meep* I apologize for this part being a little short. Thank you to abigail89 for the beta. Right now, I am slowly posting chapters to my fic journal, and this will eventually all be posted there. Happy Valentines Day! xxoo 

 

 

**To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Friday 2261.010 

 

Dear Bones,

Since we vidcomm’d on my birthday, and we ignored the elephant in the room, I’m gonna be the fearless captain I’m supposed to be and not just sweep it under the rug. I finally got up the nerve to listen to the comm yesterday and fuck... I’m sorry, Bones. I haven’t been that drunk since that night after the second Kobayashi Maru test I failed so spectacularly. The holidays and the time leading up to my birthday... Well, you know, not a good time for me. But what the hell, Bones? I’ll have you know that I’m a mighty fine singer. I even sang in a quartet in… well, one of Iowa’s finest juvenile facilities. I was drunk and singing off key on purpose, asshole. In fact I’ll prove it, attached is a holovid of me singing at a bar in Iowa shortly before I enlisted. Eat your heart out, Elvis!

Despite both Captain Decker’s and my protest, Reliant got recall orders yesterday. By the end of next week she’ll be gone and they’re sending a science vessel out here in her stead. A fucking science vessel, Bones! What the fuck are they thinking sending a ship out here that has very limited defenses and shields? It’s bullshit! What the hell am I supposed to do now, Bones? I feel like they are just setting me up to fail and there isn’t anything I can do about it. Even Spock says it’s not logical and I can tell he’s worried. Are you scared now? Well, I’m fucking terrified. How am I supposed to protect _my_ ship and crew let alone another ship that will be across the sector and helpless? Especially without you here.

Look, you aren’t the only one who sucks at this emotional shit. I usually have to be drunk... But I’m going to tell you straight here, Bones. I need you here with me. I’m not the same captain without you. I don’t know if I can do this without you. And maybe that’s not fair of me to say, but it’s the truth and one thing we’ve always been to each other is honest. Sometimes brutally so. Well, except for when I was being an idiot and not talking to you… Okay, scratch that because you are probably thinking I’m usually an idiot. If you were here I’d say ‘touché’, but you aren’t. I don’t know what to do, Bones. I’m being completely selfish here because you have every right to want to be with your husband. Maybe that’s why I keep assuming you’re going to leave me. Because fuck, Bones, you really should. It’s just that every time you tell me you aren’t going anywhere, or as you put it, ‘I didn’t leave you, idiot’, I still wonder why the hell you haven’t. Seriously, Bones. I don’t get it. 

I know Spock and I are supposed to have this close friendship in that other universe. I have to admit that despite my initial skepticism, we do work well together. We have forged a good command relationship, and you and I both know how important that is. I just think in this universe… No, I _know_ in this universe it’s never going to be like it was where Ambassador Spock came from. And maybe I’m being presumptuous speaking for you here too, but I think in our reality it’s _us_ who have the epic, life changing relationship. I say this even ‘seeing’ what the other Kirk and Spock were like during our mind meld. You would think that meld would make it easier for Spock and me to be better friends now, but it hasn’t. It just makes it weird. Because I don’t feel any of that. The times that I’ve talked to the Ambassador about it, he makes it seem logical that it’s not the same here. So many things are different here. In his universe, I never met you in the Academy. I didn’t know you until I was already Captain. And in this universe if I hadn’t, I’m sure I wouldn’t have lasted the first week at the Academy and neither would you.

Shit, I’m sure I’ve worried you now. I’m okay, Bones. Really. I would usually unload this stuff to you in our quarters over dinner or a drink and I can’t do that right now. I guess we really are the ‘co-dependent fucks’ you so fondly call us. Except you seem to be doing just fine without me. Yeah, I know you have Chris and maybe that’s the problem. I don’t have anyone but you, Bones. That makes me pretty pathetic if you ask me. And shut up, asshole, I’m okay with being alone. I am pretty sure I’m destined to be alone. It just sucks sometimes. I’m tired and whiny and if you were here, you’d probably call me ‘kid’ and tuck me in bed like the infant I’m being right now while you mutter under your breath, ‘Hotshot Starfleet captain, my ass.’ 

I hope Chris is spending more time with you. I called him on it, not that I think it will do any good. I just want you to be happy, Bones. You know that. Well, I hope you know that. Just be safe, Bones. In some ways I’m glad you are there because I have a feeling a shitstorm is about to hit us here.

Love,  
Jim

 

**Personal Journal of Leonard H McCoy  
Sunday 2261.012**

Goddammit. Once again I feel like I’m being torn in half. Might be easier if that were possible. Jim isn’t doing well. I could tell after reading the comm Chris showed me. He’s not Jim. Not my Jim anyway. His comm to me was even more alarming. I think even Chris is a little worried, not that he’ll admit it, the bastard. He just shrugged and told me that I needed to give Jim more credit. That he’d be fine. Blah blah horsephoey. Jim is as fine as a pig that’s about to be roasted alive and I’ll be damned if I just sit here and do nothing. 

I’ve been able to vidcomm with him since we’re closer. Scotty was able to rig some thingamawich on the Enterprise to boost communications. The look Chris had on his face when he came in our quarters and I was talking to Jim made me want to slug the jealous bastard. His mouth got really thin and his forehead creased more than usual as he just stood there like he was expecting me to end my conversation with Jim because he walked in. I had only started talking to Jim a minute before so hell no I wasn’t going to cut it short. When he saw I had no intention of ending the transmission, he stalked off to the bathroom. I love him, but sometimes I want to hypo him into unconsciousness and airlock him. 

Damn possessive bastard walked into my sickbay and my office last week at lunch and had that look. The look that I’m just supposed to capitulate to. I know he expected to bend me over my desk and fuck me into next Tuesday, but I was having none of that. I turned the tables and shoved _him_ down on my desk. The stupid bastard even tried to struggle until he had to admit that I had the control. Not that he admitted it until I was balls deep in him and making him beg me to start moving. I slammed into him harder than I should have again and again, telling him what a cock slut he was. Don’t know how the bastard went without being fucked for so long. Thirty fucking years. Dildo’s ain’t the same no matter what he says. He’s so desperate for it sometimes, the noises he makes, writhing and whimpering under me. Jesus, the power I have over him when I’m fucking him is exhilarating. Jesus, I’m getting hard just thinking about it. 

Our relationship is a mess right now. Until this week, we’ve barely seen each other other than fucking. When we do interact in the line of duty, he’s so goddamn cold I might a well be outside the ship in space. I know from the time he spent on Enterprise that he’s like that when he’s on ‘duty’ except this is worse because it’s _his_ goddamn ship. Fuck, his visit to Enterprise was a disaster for us and my assignment here is heading that direction too. He can’t seem to shut off being captain. Getting him to just be Chris is completely impossible. I miss Chris. I miss my husband. I don’t like this side of him. I don’t like being away from Jim. 

There, I said it. God knows, I could never admit that to Chris. I feel ridiculous admitting it to myself. I’m a grown man for fuck’s sake. A goddamn Starfleet doctor and I’m practically jumping out of my damn skin lately. Jim is wrong if he thinks I’m doing okay without him. Yeah, Jim is right; I do have Chris. But considering he’s even more emotionally closed off than usual, it doesn’t help. He won’t talk to me about anything and Lord knows, I can’t talk to him about how much I’m missing Jim. I know he has a lot on his mind. With Philip gone and his godson still fighting for his life. Plus, he’s still as rattled as our old cellar storm door during a tornado about Philip and Allen’s separation. I should feel safe here with Chris, but I don’t. Not like I do on Enterprise with Jim. 

Oh hell, I’m almost out of time before my next shift and this entry hasn’t helped me one damn bit. If anything happens to Jim when I’m not there. Goddammit, I can’t even. All I know is Philip better get his ass back here soon or god help me, I don’t know what will happen. 

 

**To: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Tuesday 2261.014 

Dear Jim, 

Before we get to the asshattery of what Starfleet brass is doing, I want to thank you for the comms you’ve been sending to Kianna, and to Philip and Allen, too. It means a lot to me, and I know it’s helped them. So thank you. I don’t know how much Kianna has updated you, but Allen has been released -- Not that he’s left the hospital because now he’s just in Chris’s room, but I’m relieved to know he’ll fully recover. Philip also told me that Kianna is seeing a counselor, so thanks for that too. There isn’t much change with my godson, but right now the fact that he’s not any worse and that the swelling is under control is a miracle in itself. Now it’s just the wait for him to wake up and see -- Well, it will be a long road to see if he’ll ever walk again, but considering the prognosis for me was just as dire, I have to believe he’ll be out running with his row crew in no time. 

Now, I want you to know that I’ve filed a formal protest as have a couple other captains, including Decker. It’s absolutely ludicrous that they are recalling Reliant. I understand that the threat with Terra Prime is serious, but there hasn’t been an inkling of anything since the bombing. It’s so damn quiet here at New Vulcan that us being on constant alert is almost becoming a joke. I’ve put the crew back on regular rotations. I’m not sure what Starfleet thinks it knows, but all of my contacts -- and believe me, I’ve been in contact with anyone I can -- they have nothing. I can’t believe that Terra Prime is so well organized that they have anything else planned. I think they just got lucky. 

Having said that, I still am not letting my guard down, nor should you. I wouldn’t bet against them using the Romulans or Klingons to start something to gain sympathy for their cause. In the meantime, I know that Scotty rigged up something that is letting you and Len vidcomm and knowing you, you’ve got communications working double shifts analyzing sensor data. Trust your instincts, son, and while I know you’re completely capable of making difficult decisions -- If it helps, feel free to comm me too. 

I hate to cut this short, but I have a date with my husband. Your advice is duly noted. 

Take care of yourself, son. Len is worried about you, and so am I. 

Love, 

Chris

 

**To: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Date Sent: Wednesday 2261.015 

 

Hey Kid, 

We’ve been talking by vidcomm every night since your birthday so writing you might seem a bit much, but I wanted you to have this to get it through your THICK SKULL that I’m not going anywhere. I know it was kind of awkward - hell, that’s an understatement. Look, we both admit we’re terrible at this emotional shit and gauging from the disastrous vidcomm we had trying to talk about it but NOT talking about it. We’re good though, okay? I have no intention of leaving Enterprise. I have no intention of leaving _you_. These weeks with Chris have just reinforced what I already knew. We cannot serve on a starship together without me wanting to strangle him most of the time. Something tells me that’s not exactly a healthy relationship. Part of me hoped I was wrong, that it wouldn’t be like that. But the only thing keeping me from wringing the stubborn son of a bitch’s goddamn neck is knowing it’s only temporary.

Look, like I told you two nights ago after I got your comm, I’m _not_ doing okay without you. Not by a half. I told you once you’re the only one I’d want to serve on a ship with, and I meant it, kid. Chris barely acknowledges me if we’re not in his quarters. We’ve haven’t spent any meaningful time together like we need to. He’s using duty and schedules to avoid the talk that’s long overdue. Right now I’m over caring. 

I’ve stopped trying to figure out one universe or the other. It gives me a goddamn headache. There isn’t enough bourbon in the stars to even attempt to. The green blooded hobgoblin must have been different in that universe as far as I'm concerned for them to become such good friends. I just don’t see it. You and our Spock are so different I’m surprised you have been able to work out a command relationship and that’s a testament to _you_ , kid. Especially after what he did to you. (And yeah, I’m always gonna hold a grudge against him for that) I’m drinking right now or I wouldn’t have the balls to say what I’m about to say. But you’re right, kid. It’s us in this universe, and Jim, I’m glad. Meeting you on that shuttle was one of the best things that ever happened to me. Chris being the other. Although right now I’m not sure about the latter. Our date last night was a disaster and we ended up fighting and I slept on the couch in Philip’s quarters. That’s why I wasn’t there to get your comm and I’m sorry. I should have commed you, but I wasn’t really in a talking mood. 

I will never willingly leave you, Jim. Wild horses couldn’t drag me away. I’ll be back soon. I swear. 

Stay safe. I’ll kill you myself if anything happens to you, you ingrate. 

Love you, kid, 

Bones

 

P.S. That video ain’t half bad, kid. But what the hell were you twanging about? Walk the line? Irony, my name is Jim Kirk. You haven’t walked a line in your life and couldn’t if a Rigelian razor beast was waiting if you didn’t. Jesus. The idiots who invented country music should have been given the plague if you ask me.  



	61. You've Had A Pleasant Run

**Title:** You’ve Had A Pleasant Run -(Part 55 of To Talk of Many Things)  
 **Author:** mga1999   
**Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating** : R  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count** : Around 3000  
 **Summary:** The continuing correspondence of... yeah, you know the drill.  
 **Disclaimer:** Any resemblance to anything whatsoever is purely coincidental.  
 **Authors' Notes** : Thank you to abigail89 for the beta and pep talk! With any luck, I’ll continue to be able to update on Tuesday’s. *fingers crossed* 

 

 

 **Personal Journal of Leonard H McCoy  
Thursday 2261.016 **

 

Goddamn son of a bitch. I gave myself two days to calm the fuck down before I wrote this entry, and as you can tell by the start, I’m not sure two months would be long enough. I’m still camped out in Philip’s quarters. I still can’t get myself to sleep in his bed, but the couch is actually quite comfortable. I suppose I should back up to where it all went to hell. 

Tuesday I got a comm from Chris in the afternoon after he woke up that he was taking a night off. He’s slowly returning shifts to what they were prior to the bombing and being on high alert. His comm said simply: _Taking the night off. Be in our quarters at 19:30. Don’t be late._ I bristled at his bluntness at first, but then smiled. The idea of spending an evening, no, having him in my bed all night - Well, it was a start. 

I tried to comm Jim to let him know I probably wouldn’t be able to make our vidcomm time, but Nyota told me he was off-ship meeting with Decker before Reliant leaves. I kept hoping that wasn’t happening, but as I’m typing this right now, Reliant is on it’s way back to Earth for shore leave and then new orders. Enterprise is alone in the Neutral Zone. Whatever worthless ship they are sending out was delayed and won’t arrive until Saturday. Not that it’s gonna make a rat’s ass difference. I’d sure like to tell Starfleet brass where they can shove it right now. Speaking of Starfleet brass, sometimes I forget I’m married to one of them. Of course he can shove it right now too. 

Hell, maybe I expected too much. I had hours to think about Chris’s comm. I tried to keep myself busy. But I was kidding myself. Goddamn fool has made me into a romantic and I had visions of a quiet candlelit dinner - He even has me liking wine more and more. The idea of being wined and dined by my husband and _talking_ , really talking, to Chris, and not _The Admiral_ had me so goddamn tied up in knots almost put the wrong cell cultures on the slide for the paper I’m finishing on part of the regeneration technique I adapted. I finally gave up after that and went to the gym, arriving for my ‘date’ promptly a minute before. 

Expecting low lights and a table set with food and a smiling husband, I was greeted by a bright room and no husband. Oh, he was there; I heard him puttering around in the bathroom. Thinking maybe he wanted to start with a bath in that huge tub of his, I headed that way before seeing our bed out of the corner of my eye. I stopped dead in my tracks. Other times, I might have reacted differently to what was waiting on the bed: restraints, a ball gag, a butt plug, and Chris’s favorite dildo. This time, my stomach dropped, and not in a good way. I knew right then there was no plan of talking, no wine or romantic dinner. He planned on tying me to that bed and going at it half the night - I was suddenly livid. How dare he? We finally have some goddamn time together and all he wants is sex. We’ve had plenty of that. That’s _all_ we’ve had since I arrived on Exeter almost a month ago. 

He walked out of the bathroom, not even looking at me, in sleep pants and bare-chested and headed for the bed. “Go wash up. I know how you hate my tongue in your ass if you haven’t.” No hello. No kiss. Just goddamn stoic, I’m in charge, Christopher Pike. It went to hell in a hand-basket quickly from there. That I was not ‘on board’ with his plans went over about as well as if - Well, I could only imagine it could have gone worse if I’d asked to comm Jim before we got started. I had no intention of getting ‘started’ without us talking first. He had the gall to try to ‘order’ me to the bed. I told him under no certain terms where he could shove his goddamn orders. Half the ship may have possibly heard us yelling at each other. We said things to each other - Hell, I can’t remember half of them. I was so angry. He was so put off that I dared to defy him. 

The final straw was when he threw how much I was talking to Jim in my face. I may have yelled back that I needed _someone_ to talk to since he couldn’t be bothered. Goddamn son of a bitch knows how long I’ve talked to Jim each and every time. I asked him if he watched or listened to them too, all the time fuming that he _dared_ to breach my privacy like that. He says he didn’t, but I’m not sure I believe him. As angry as I was, as I am, it hurt and continues to reinforce the fact that he isn’t ever going to get over his insane jealousy of Jim. 

Two days later and here I am in Philip’s quarters. I haven’t seen him. I’ve had no contact with him. He cancelled the command crew meeting for this morning. My daily reports have been reviewed and signed off by Sato. I’m cycling between being so angry I want to march up to the bridge and - Hell, I don’t know what I want to do. Somewhere between kissing the bastard and killing him. But goddamn, it it hurts. I’m not going to be the first one to give in this time. He knows where I am. I’m not going to apologize for my friendship with Jim or stop talking to him. I’m not going to apologize for wanting to spend some time with my husband that doesn’t involve one of our dicks up each other’s asses. 

I unloaded this to Jim earlier and he was - He was surprisingly, well, understanding. The look he gave me, well, it mirrored the hurt I’m feeling. And I have to say, it feels pretty damn good to know that there is someone out there that gives a damn about me. Dammit, that’s not entirely fair. I know Chris cares about me. I know he _loves_ me. Is it too much to ask that he show me that other than sex? Damn if I don’t feel like I’m being a woman right now. Jim laughed at me when I said that and damn, it felt good to laugh with him. Until I started sobbing and Jim’s ‘Oh Bones’ just about broke me. His ‘It will be okay, Bones.’ as I blew my nose, looking absolutely wrecked, I’m sure. But the kid looked at me so earnestly when he said it, he actually made me feel like it might be. If nothing else, I know I’ll always have Jim. Half the universe would be so lucky to have a friend like him. 

Trouble is, I don’t want to lose Chris. I can’t lose Chris. What am I supposed to do? 

 

**To: Richard Barnett (rbarnett@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Saturday 2261.018 

 

What the hell is going on at Starfleet, Richard? I’ve been trying to get though to you on vidcomm all day. If I wasn’t convinced that the Admiralty was up to something before, I am now. Of all the ships they send out to the neutral zone, they send the ship Commander Winona Kirk is on. What the hell are they thinking, Richard? Are they trying to get rid of the Kirks once and for all in one fell swoop? Or is this about Jim? Pushing him past the breaking point? You know their history. Nothing good is going to come out of this, Richard. 

I don’t have the time or the patience for this shit. I have a CMO who is barely speaking to me (long story) but half hysterical after hearing what ship is out there with Jim. I can’t say that I blame him and I don’t know half the reasons he’s privy to. 

Terra Prime, the Klingons, or the Romulans aren’t going to be needed to take down Starfleet at this rate. We’re going to implode from the inside all on our own. 

Comm me. We need to talk. 

Chris 

 

**To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Nyota Uhura (nuhura@starfleet.gov)  
Monday 2261.020 

Len, 

You have to tell me what to do to help Jim because I’m at a loss right now. He’s nearly jumping out of his skin and I don’t think he’s sleeping either considering the timestamps on reports and communications he’s sending. He’s so wired that I think if anyone touched him he’d literally break into a million pieces. I’m worried about him. Yes, ME, Len. Even Spock says he is ‘sufficiently concerned’. Having his mother’s ship out here has really thrown him off kilter and she’s only been here a couple of days. 

Look, only a few of us notice. He’s not at risk for his command or doing anything anyone could report. He’s still the cool and cocky asshole we all know and love. Hold on, ‘love’ might be too strong, but I have grown fond of him and he’s a hell of a Captain. I’ll give him that. I don’t know anything about his family, really, other than of course his father. But would you care to explain to me what the hell is going on between him and his mother that has him so unglued? 

Curious, I looked over her service record with Spock last night. I found it unsettling, no, I found it _sad_ that it looks like Commander Kirk was gone, back up in space within a few months after his birth and losing her husband. And she’s been there ever since except for the required family leave each year. I think Spock said it best. “Would it not have been logical for Commander Kirk to stay with her boys after her husband was killed instead of spending their formative years in space?” 

What can I do, Len? 

Love,  
Nyota 

P.S. I’m sorry, hun. How are _you_? 

 

 **To: Nyota Uhura (nuhura@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Tuesday 2260.021 

 

Hey Darlin’, 

Look, about the only thing that’s going to calm him when his mother is around is to get him good and drunk and keep him that way or get him laid. Since neither is an option right now, just leave him be. I’m talking to him. He’s doing better than I expected after I got the news what ship had arrived. But thank you for keeping an eye on him for me, darlin’. Just be yourself. Keep things normal. Don’t coddle him and for heaven’s sake, don’t ask him to talk about her. That’s a can of worms you do _not_ want to open. Believe me. I really can’t tell ya much without breaking his confidence. I will say that I’ve never even met her, so if you want to read between the lines on that - you’re a smart woman. 

I’m tempted to ignore telling you how I am. I’ll sum it up by saying I’ve been sleeping on the couch in the CMO’s headquarters for a week and have said less than a dozen words to Chris and those were only required during meetings. I’m as miserable in a pig in a pen during a drought. No, I don’t want to talk about it. It will either work itself out or I’ll kill the bastard. 

I’m alright, darlin’. I just miss Enterprise and all of you. Jim is working on getting me back home before Chris and I kill each other. Philip told me yesterday he isn’t coming back for at least a year. He’s staying with his son while he recovers and I don’t blame him one bit. He and Jim are working together to replace him since Chris has his head up his ass. If all goes as planned, there will be a new CMO assigned to Exeter by the time our shore leave starts on Risa next month. I can’t wait to be back on Enterprise where I belong. 

All my love, darlin’,  
Len 

P.S. I’ve been working with several geneticists and Vulcan scientists while I’ve had so much time on my hands and have a solid plan for you and Spock to work on that baby when I get back. You might want to think about moving that bonding ceremony up sooner than later. It looks very promising. 

 

 

 **To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Philip Boyce (pboyce@starfleet.gov)  
Friday 2261.024 

 

I have excellent news! Txanton woke up yesterday. The past week, we’ve been slowly bringing him out of his medically induced coma. There were a few fleeting moments of awareness here and there, but nothing considered true consciousness. Yesterday, he was able to make eye contact, and respond with hand signals and use a PADD on his good side. I waited to tell you until we’d run more tests and he was less groggy from sedation, but he’s awake and cognitive! Our boy is still there, Chris! I cannot tell you how relieved Allen and I are. My worst fear was the brain damage would be so significant that he would have memory loss or worse, loss of basic cognitive function. But he knew us. His brothers and sisters. He knew who he was. Other than the bombing, he remembers everything! 

It will still be a long road. We’ve started weaning him off the ventilator and that should be out in a few days and we can see how his speech is affected. He’s still recovering from horrific head trauma, and he has moments of confusion which is expected. He has little feeling below his chest and can’t move one arm, but the doctors are hopeful, _I’m_ hopeful that will change as he heals and begins intensive treatment. Well, I have to believe we’ll get him back completely. Even if we don’t, that he’s still there mentally, I’m so relieved I can’t even express. 

I will write more later, but I wanted to let you know. Len can explain more, but God, Chris, he’s going to be okay! 

Thank you for all your prayers, my friend. 

Philip

 

P.S. I need to set up a time when we can vidcomm. I need to talk to you about Allen. We may have, er, well in our relief and elation slept together. It’s made things, well, to put it bluntly, complicated. 

 

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. McCoy Pike  
Saturday 2261.025**

 

I’ve done it this time. And the worst part? I didn’t even know what I’d done until over a week after. It took a long comm session yesterday with Dr. Rossen for her to point out _why_ my husband was so furious. I’m an idiot. I realize I’ve come to this conclusion before. Apparently, it’s a permanent affliction. I need to fix this but I don’t even know where to start. Dr. Rossen told me that I start with ‘I’m sorry’ but I’ve said that to him so many times before I don’t know if that will even begin to fix this. 

To rub salt further in the wounds, not fifteen minutes after my session with Dr. Rossen, my mother commed to discuss the wedding. It was all I could to put on a happy face when I’m starting to wonder if there even will _be_ a wedding. Ignoring the fact that of course, we’re already married. I can just imagine this conversation with my mother down the road. No mom, there won’t be a wedding, but maybe since you already reserved and paid for the venues, we can have a hell of a party to celebrate my divorce because, by the way, we got married months ago. 

Fuck me. I know I have to bite the bullet and make amends. When I talked to Richard earlier told him what happened, and asked for advice, he actually laughed at me. Or more like a long whistle and then a laugh at the hot water I’ve gotten myself into. Again. The only advice he gave me was not to try to have sex with him as an apology. Asshole. I think _I’ve_ even figured that out this time. Which leaves me with nothing. Len wants to talk. I know we have a lot to talk about. That’s the problem and why I’ve been avoiding it for so long. I don’t know _how_ to talk. Dr. Rossen reminded me that it’s no different than writing to each other like we have been for so long. In theory, I get it. In practice, I fumble like a stuttering fool. It’s just so much easier to kiss him. And fuck him. And I know what that says about me. And makes everything he said to me when we were fighting true. I’m a Neanderthal asshole who doesn’t even know what my husband needs to make him happy. 

Certainly not practically accusing him of choosing Jim over me. Oh yes, I did say that. And many other gems I’m not especially proud of. He’s absolutely right that at least he can talk to Jim. There is a small part of me that is glad that he can since I so obviously fail in that department. Rationally, I’m glad they have each other. In the heat of the moment I turn into this person I don’t even know anymore. The person that wishes Jim Kirk didn’t even exist. The problem is, that wouldn’t make the problems Len and I have disappear. Sure, Jim exacerbates the asshole gene in me, but when you’re already an asshole you’re fucked anyway. 

I’m fucked. And not even literally. Which makes me understand _why_ Richard is laughing at me. 

As my husband would say: Goddammit.  



	62. A Loaf of Bread, the Walrus Said

**Title:** A Loaf of Bread, the Walrus Said - (Part 56 of To Talk of Many Things)  
 **Author:** mga1999   
**Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating** : PG-13  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count** : Around 3600  
 **Summary:** The continuing correspondence of... yeah, you know the drill.  
 **Disclaimer:** Any resemblance to anything whatsoever is purely coincidental.  
 **Authors' Notes** : I am taking liberties moving up the production of the Oberth class ships because it’s more convenient like that. Also, since TOS was really bad about having ship names to troll from, I’ve stolen a name from later down the road too. I mean if they can use Enterprise for hundreds of years, the same would be for Science Vessels, right? Also, there is a line in here I stole from one of your wonderful comments. I thought it was appropriate and too good not to use. Thanks to abigail89 for the beta and Word Wars at Jim_and_Bones for helping me get this done on Saturday so I wasn’t writing it last minute as usual. And I promise, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. And it's not a train either. Duh, they are in space. :P 

 

 

 **Personal Journal of Christopher R. McCoy Pike  
Sunday 2261.026 **

Note to self. Sending a comm to your husband that says ‘I’m sorry. Can we have makeup sex now?’ is really not going to get you out of the mess you are in -- even if you never sent it. 

Get a grip, Christopher. 

 

**To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Sunday 2261.026 

 

I have started this comm so many times and erased it so many more -- I don’t know what to say, Len. Yes, I also know I’m a chickenshit, sending you a comm when we are only a few decks away from each other. But we might as well be thousands of light years away as we are right now. 

I’m sorry. I know that probably doesn’t mean anything to you right now. To me, it means that once again I’ve proven what an absolute idiot I am. But I am sorry, Len. Truly. 

Case in point, I didn’t even _know_ what I’d done wrong until a lengthy session with Dr. Rossen on Friday. As much as I wanted to find you after that and apologize, I knew I needed to do some thinking. And okay, maybe I was also afraid to see you. To look in your eyes and see the hurt I’ve caused you. You told me when we first started writing each other that I didn’t have a cowardly bone in my body -- God, that seems so long ago now. But I _am_ a coward emotionally or, as Philip pointed out yesterday, emotionally constipated. It’s true. Don’t even try to tell me it’s not. 

If only it were as easily remedied as the medical condition. Hopefully that got a bit of a smile out of you. That is if you are even reading this. I wouldn’t blame you if you deleted it as soon as you got it. I know you won’t because you’re a much a better man that I. I can only hope someday to be the man you deserve, Len. Because you deserve so much better than the Neanderthal you’re married to. Yes, I’m agreeing with you. We said some harsh words to each other, and while most everything I said was just meant to hurt you -- you know I don’t like to lose, and I was losing our fight badly. Which is easy to do when you don’t even know why we were fighting in the first place. 

I don’t know how to talk, Len. Not like we need to. The scariest part about some of this is realizing how sex seems to be the only part of our relationship that works. While I also realize we’re always making up for time apart, it scares me, Len. What if that’s all there is? While I know that’s not entirely true, right now I’m not so sure. You were absolutely right about us not being able to serve together. I didn’t want to believe that even if deep down I knew. If nothing else, this last month has more than proven it fact. 

If you were here you’d be calling me a drama queen again, and then you’d fuck me into next week telling me to get a grip and stop being a damn fool. Which all things considered, doesn’t seem to be ideal. So where does that leave us? 

I know I love just being with you. The time we spent in Georgia, just walking, swinging on the hammock, fishing, heck just lying on the couch reading together. I was content, Len, and I don’t say that without meaning it. Of course all of those moments ended with sex which feeds into -- Well, see above. 

I don’t know what to do, Len. I don’t know what you need from me. Which even an emotionally constipated idiot knows doesn’t make for a healthy relationship. 

Tell me what do do, Len. I’ll do anything. 

Yours,  
Chris 

 

**To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Nyota Uhura (nuhura@starfleet.gov)  
Sunday 2261.026 

 

Dear Len, 

You said in your comm to either keep Jim drunk or get him laid. I chose to arrange the latter. 

You’re welcome. 

Nyota 

p.s. Funny you should mention the bonding ceremony. Spock and I were thinking of skipping our shore leave on Risa and going to New Vulcan. He’s been quite impulsive lately. Can’t say this girl is complaining. Since you’re already there, you wouldn’t want to consider staying, would you, given the circumstances with the admiral? Might be good for you to spend this shore leave apart, hon. If things change, of course Chris would be more than welcome. I know Spock would want him there. We could give you a ride back to Risa on whatever ship Spock hires. Think about it. 

 

 **To: Nyota Uhura (nuhura@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Monday 2261.027 

 

Nyota, 

Good god, woman. You should attach a warning when sending comms like that. I almost spit out the grits I was eating for breakfast all over my PADD. 

You can’t say something like that and not tell me the details. Don’t hold out on me, darlin’. I gotta have something to lord over Jim once and awhile. He didn’t say anything when I commed with him earlier, but I do admit he looks a little less rattled. 

On second thought, I’m probably better off not knowing. I’m not sure if I should be thanking you or questioning your sanity. But clearly you have no sanity for being with the hobgoblin in the first place. 

Len

p.s. I’ll think about it. I was honestly thinking about spending my shore leave with Jim. Will your family be coming? 

 

**To: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Nyota Uhura (nuhura@starfleet.gov)  
Monday 2261.027 

Pot, 

You question my sanity for my choice of bondmates when yours will be an egotistical stoic Starfleet Admiral and you are best friends with Jim Kirk? 

Kettle 

p.s. My family is not coming. We will have a traditional ceremony on Earth in the near future. You can bring that cocky asshole best friend of yours if you decide to stay. 

 

 **To: Nyota Uhura (nuhura@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Tuesday 2261.028 

Nyota, 

Touché. 

Chris ‘wrote’ me two days ago. I don’t know what to think. Or what to do. We’ve been avoiding each other for so long now it’s awkward. At least I started sleeping in Phil’s bed since he isn’t coming back anytime soon. 

Jim still hasn’t said anything about who he’s sleeping with. I’m saving bringing it up for an opportune time. I did discuss the possibility of him meeting me on New Vulcan for at least part of our shore leave. I wouldn’t want to deprive him all of his time on Risa. Damn kid has been salivating over it, talking non-stop of breaking his record for the number of alien species he has relations with. Goddamn fool. At least I’ll be there to hypo him after he picks up all kinds of new kinds of STI’s. 

I suppose this is the point where I go be the better man that Chris seems to think I am and go and talk to him. It’s been two weeks and I can’t take much more. If you don’t hear from me tomorrow, it’s because I’ve thrown him out an airlock and I’m in the brig. 

Love,  
Len 

 

**To: Philip Boyce (pboyce@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Tuesday 2261.028 

 

Dear Philip, 

I know when we vidcomm’d the other night we spoke about Txanton, but I’m still so happy that he’s woken up -- I still can’t express it in words. You will let me know as soon as he’s able to vidcomm right? I certainly want to talk to him when he’s ready. I’m continuing to pray that my godson’s recovery will continue to be miraculous. 

Len still hasn’t answered my comm. I know he read it and it hasn’t been deleted. I’m taking that as a good sign. I have to at this point. We have a command staff meeting in the morning and it’s going to be awkward as hell. No wonder you and Allen never served together. I get it now. Hopefully it’s not too late for us to fix our mistakes. 

I meant what I said -- that I didn’t see that you and Allen sleeping together as a bad thing. Initially. And yes, I realize it doesn’t mean you two are getting back together. But Philip, you said it happened twice more since. You and I both know that I’ve certainly had my fair share of ‘ex-sex’ but I hope the kids haven’t gotten wind of you two sleeping together because that’s not fair to them, to give them hope when you already told me there isn’t any. I still can’t believe you slept with him _after_ seeing him getting a blow job by his new boyfriend. It’s just not you, Philip. Nor is sleeping with Sato. I never even _knew_ you liked women. 

 

Look, I know I'm sounding judgmental right now. I’m the last person who should be saying anything. But the kids are all especially vulnerable right now, and Jesus, Philip, if Kianna found out somehow -- she’d be so happy, and then devastated again when she finds out you’re planning on filing the divorce next month. So just think about it next time you and Allen decide to get a quick ‘bite to eat’ and go to that hotel near the hospital. Enough said. 

Shit, Phil. Len is here. I gotta cut this off. If you don’t hear from me tomorrow, well, they will have more than a CMO to replace on this ship. 

Take care and give Txanton my love. 

Chris 

 

**To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
** From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
Wednesday 2261.029 

 

Dear Chris, 

 

I’m sure you’ve been surprised that I haven’t been writing you to rake you over the coals for what’s going on between you and Bones right now. I’m staying out of it. I’m supporting Bones the best I can, but... Well, I know you two need to work this out yourselves. 

Bones said I should write you, though. That you were worried about me. Surprisingly, I’m okay. I guess I am a little ‘rattled’ like Nyota and Bones have been whispering behind my back on comms. Seriously, I’m really glad those two aren’t on Enterprise right now because they are _relentless_ in their conspiring against me. It’s bad enough with us in comm range. They are even worse when they are both here. I can’t get away with _anything_ on the bridge with Nyota on duty. One sniffle or yawn from me and Bones is all over me. Don’t tell them I say so, but I have to admit it’s nice to have people looking after me. People who care. 

Which I guess is a good segue to discuss the elephant currently in the room: My mother. It’s funny how no one has said a thing. Except Bones of course. He’s the only one that really knows anything and I’m pretty sure he told everyone else not to dare mention her. I know he means well, but... Well, case in point. There was a group of scientists that shuttled over to Enterprise from the Equinox to tour our labs. One of them mentioned my mother when I met him and it got so eerily silent among my crew that you could have heard a pin drop, even with the hum of Enterprise engines. _That_ is why I hate this so much. 

It’s almost like if her name is mentioned that I’m going to flip out or something. It’s almost hilarious if it didn’t make me feel like they don’t think I’m capable of dealing with this added pressure. My relationship or _lack_ of one with my mother has nothing to do with the job I’m doing. Whether she was on that ship or not, I’d be doing everything I could to make sure their mission out here succeeds and they are kept safe. It’s as simple as that. I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t bother me that she hasn’t tried to contact me. But why would she? It’s no different than the last five years that she’s managed to avoid me every time she was at the Academy or anywhere in comm range. I wouldn’t expect anything to change just because she’s on a ship in the same sector. 

Speaking of the ship. While I doubt I’ll be invited on board the Equinox while she’s here, the Oberth class ships are pretty sweet. For a science vessel that is. She’s got pretty good weapons capabilities. After studying her specs and getting Scotty’s opinion, I’m not quite as worried about her (the ship) being out here. 

 

Bones asked me the other day what I’d do if I saw my mother. Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do. I’m on ‘display’ for everyone to see and I guess I’d have to put on the greatest act of my life to be indifferent. Treat her like anyone else visiting Enterprise. She might as well be anyone else. I’ll be damned if I let her being here show Starfleet that I have _any_ weakness they can exploit. Not gonna happen. 

 

Speaking of exploiting: Man, the gossipnets don’t let up, do they? I saw a headline when I was walking through the rec room last night that you and Bones had called off your engagement. Apparently word has gotten out about you two not talking to each other on Exeter and sleeping in different quarters. In case you hadn’t seen it, your family publicist denied it. At least they still haven’t found out you two are already married. Idiots. 

 

Anyway, I’m okay, Chris. It helps being able to talk to Bones all the time. I’m sorry if that bothers you, but I’m not going to stop and neither is Bones. Deal with it, old man. Your husband isn’t going anywhere unless you make him. And that’s all I’m going to say on the matter. 

Take care of yourself and Bones while he’s still there. 

Love,  
Jim 

 

**Personal Journal of Leonard H McCoy  
Wednesday 2261.029**

 

Huh. So I went and saw Chris last night. He was just finishing a comm to Philip when I walked in unannounced. I didn’t want to give him or myself time to think too much. He hurriedly finished up the comm and stood up from behind his desk. We both just stood there a minute looking at each other. He finally whispered ‘I’m sorry,’ resting his hands on the back of his chair. I told him that I knew he was sorry, but that it didn’t really fix anything. He just nodded and took a deep breath and looked down. 

I asked him if his family had seen the newsnets and he nodded and sighed. He told me he talked to his mother shortly before he wrote to Philip. He then looked up at me so earnestly and asked me if I wanted what the headline said to be true. Hell, it broke my heart that he thinks I might walk away from him so easily. I told him ‘Of course not, you damn fool’. He let out a sigh and his body literally sagged. He moved into the chair and sat down, leaning over, elbows on his knees and hands on his head. He looked utterly exhausted and I felt terrible that I hadn’t seen what a toll this was taking on him. Some CMO I am. 

I knew right then it wasn’t the time. It was late, almost midnight. I told him that I didn’t think it was a good idea for us to try to talk right then and he looked even more relived. I told him I just wanted to tell him that I didn’t want to waste the last few weeks I have on Exeter like this. I told him things needed to change if he expected me to move back into his quarters. He rose and walked over in front of me, hesitant, almost like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch me. That hurt. It hurt a lot to see I’ve made him feel like that, even if it is his own damn fault. 

He said, ‘How about if we have dinner here tomorrow night? I’ll open a bottle of wine. I’ll have the chef make pot roast just like you like it. We’ll talk.’ I nodded at him, not stepping any closer, afraid that if he did touch me - Damn, I’ve missed him so much. Having him standing in front of me looking so sad and exhausted. It was all I could do not to pull him into my arms. I just said ‘Okay’ and backed up, needing some distance. I told him I was going back to Philip’s quarters and that I’d come by after shift tomorrow. He looked so disappointed that I wasn’t going to stay, but I didn’t think it was a good idea. 

I was almost to the door when I heard him say, ‘Stay,’ and I stopped, my hand on the wall and took a deep breath. I told him that wasn’t a good idea without turning around to face him. A moment later, I felt his hand on my shoulder and it took all my self control not to flinch. I know that sounds bad, but I’m still pretty angry. I sighed and said, ‘Chris’ about to tell him no and he said, ‘Just stay, honey. To sleep. I just want to hold you. Just sleeping.’ I sighed and shook my head, knowing it was useless to try to walk out that door. As mad as I was, I was practically vibrating from just his hand being on me. I think he sensed that and pulled it away, giving me space. Giving me what I needed. So I nodded and he thankfully moved away giving me room to turn and breathe. He walked to the bathroom and I could hear him going through his bedtime routine. He came out and I went and did mine as best as I could with my things in Philip’s quarters. When I came back, he was already in our bed, the covers were turned down on my side waiting for me. The air was so thick with tension awkwardness I could hardly breathe. I knew I needed to do something. 

“Promise you aren’t going to molest me?” I said. And finally, he laughed as I could feel the corner of my mouth turn up, too. “I swear to God, Len, I will be on my best behavior,” he said, holding up his hand in promise. We were both smiling by then and damn, if that didn’t feel good. I crawled in bed and turned to my side. He spooned up against me and thank god he wasn’t hard. I’m not sure I would have been able to control myself if he was. I’ve missed him so damn much. I haven’t even been jerking off and having him behind me, pressed up against me. Well, I realized the self-control he was showing. For me. I finally relaxed as he nuzzled against my neck. 

He told me he loved me. I told him the same. He told me we’d work it out. We’d figure it out. Right then, curled up in his arms, I believed him. 

Right now, the next morning, sitting in my office after our staff meeting, I’m not so sure. He was gone when I woke up. Off to the gym I’m sure keeping up with his new regimen. In the meeting, he was back to the same ole’ Christopher Pike. I suppose if I can at least have him, have _Chris_ , in our quarters, I will have to learn to live with that. It doesn’t make it any easier being in a room with him where he barely acknowledges me and treats me like - Shit, I know there are rules and regulations and all, but he’s so damn cold. Jim’s not like that. He manages to balance his command authority and treat us, all of us, like we’re important. Like what we say and do matters. I don’t know how to explain it better than that. 

I’m probably wrong to expect anything different. Military life is still fairly new to me. I’m not exactly the epitome of what a Starfleet Officer should be. Chris, of course, is. He’s military down to his bones and every breath he takes. I _know_ it's unfair of me to expect different. 

But I do expect it to be different and I don’t know quite how to explain that to him without him hurling military protocol at me. 

I’m nervous about tonight. I feel like if we can’t work this out before I leave the ship, there won’t be anything to work out later. I know that sounds dramatic, but it doesn’t make it any less true. I guess it’s poetic in some ways. I completely understand how Jocelyn felt. Now _I’m_ the one on the other side being ignored by a driven, focused, and determined partner who’s tunnel vision is so sharp, it could cut you like a knife. 

I’ve never really believed that life is predestined, I’ve never had faith in any God, or karma. Lately, I might be reconsidering. 

Karma is a bitch.


	63. I Wish You Were Not Quite So Deaf

**Title:** I Wish You Were Not Quite So Deaf - (Part 57 of To Talk of Many Things)  
 **Author:** mga1999   
**Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating** : PG-13  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count** : Around 4400  
 **Summary:** The continuing correspondence of... yeah, you know the drill.  
 **Disclaimer:** Any resemblance to anything whatsoever is purely coincidental.  
 **Authors' Notes** : This chapter would not have been posted on time due to a hellish real life week without the help of weepingnaiad on Saturday and Word Wars at jim_and_bones on Sunday. *hugs to all* Thanks to abigail89 for the beta. If there are any errors left, it's my fault or the fault of this DAMN COLD. I will also give you a hint about the next chapter. It's rated NC-17. 

 

**To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Philip Boyce (pboyce@starfleet.gov)  
Thursday 2261.030 

Dear Chris, 

I’m going to assume since you weren’t there for our vidcomm last night that your dinner with Len went well. I haven’t seen any comms about an incident on the Exeter so I’m taking that as a good sign too. Either way, I’m going to be at the hospital until the usual time and then I’ll be home if you need to talk. 

I’m at a loss at how to respond to what you said about Allen and me. Maybe because I’m at a loss myself. I promise we _are_ keeping it away from the kids. I wouldn’t do that to them. Honestly, I’m not sure what Allen and I are doing. He’s still seeing William and I actually went to a bar near the house and picked up a curvy redhead last night after I couldn’t get a hold of you. You would have liked her, Chris. She was exactly your type, or what your type used to be before Leonard. Allen is, well, I guess, easy. Despite all the problems and that we want different things right now, sex is, and has always been, something good with us. Right now, with everything going on, I guess it’s just _comforting_. I don’t know how to explain it. We both just need it right now. Need each other in that way. It doesn’t mean anything. Neither of us have changed our minds on the divorce. We both want different futures. It’s pretty simple if you look at it that way, Chris. 

As far as your question about women, I guess I’ve really never answered that for you, have I? You certainly know that I was _not_ into women at all when I met you or when we were together. I had never been with a woman until that time about five years ago when Allen and I mutually decided to see other people. A trial separation while we were, in fact, separated with our different duties. We had been arguing for a year at that time over the same issues. I had wanted to take a ten month tour on a science mission. Which meant that for about three months neither of us would have been on Earth. The kids would have been fine. His mother would have been with them, but he reminded me, as he always reminded me, that we had promised that one of us would always be on Earth for the kids until they were at least in college. I knew he was right, but I was so damn stir crazy being cooped up on Earth, that I _needed_ to get away. 

So I didn’t go. But the next time the opportunity came up for me to take a shorter mission, I did. A five month jaunt which left the day after he returned from his duties on Starbase 23. We talked, or argued, and decided that we were going to take this time apart to figure out if we even wanted to stay together anymore. I know you never realized it, and I’m sorry now for never confiding in you. But at the time, Chris, you never would have understood. _Now_ I think you do. In all appearances, Allen and I had the perfect marriage and family because that’s what we let people see and honestly, no one knew the wiser. Not that it was bad, but I realized shortly after we adopted Kianna that Allen was just ‘humoring’ my need for a large family. God, nothing against him, because he is a wonderful father and he _loves_ those kids fiercely. I just think if he had more of a choice, or if I had listened, we would have had children much later in our marriage, and certainly not the four we had. I asked him recently when we were actually _out_ to lunch and no, not over to the hotel if he even ever really wanted children. He told me that while of course he does not regret any of our children, that he probably would have been perfectly happy if he’d never had any. But he knew _I_ wouldn’t have, and he loved me and wanted to make me happy. That was sobering to hear. 

During our separation, on that base, he was seeing other people. On my voyage, I met a research scientist. Her name was Evelyn and she was recently widowed. We hit it off. We made each other laugh and we both desperately needed to laugh at the time. It wasn’t any great romance, but under different circumstances who knows. At the time, we both knew exactly what it was. Two lonely souls taking comfort in each other when we both desperately wanted other people. She did help me realize though that I loved my husband. Very much. I wanted to make it work. I told myself that it was only a few years until Kianna would be off at college, not knowing she would join Starfleet the minute she graduated secondary school. I could make it until then. 

So I went home and Allen and I had a month to work things out before he was leaving again. We did and I honestly thought everything would be okay. We both know now we were only kidding ourselves. Allen says he is done in two years. Period. Expects me to do the same. At first I thought I could. I’d do one last five year tour with you, which is what you’d talked about too, and I thought I could live with that. I couldn’t. Being back out in space made me realize what I’d been missing. What I’d given up. When I told Allen I wanted to do another tour after this one, he went ballistic. Told me it was him or space after this tour. 

Well, as you know, I’m choosing space. I did try to compromise. I told you all of that before, but there isn’t anything to compromise when two people want completely different things. We even discussed just being separated, seeing where both of us are at in ten years. We’re good together, Allen and I. We’re good partners in parenting, and if it was just the little things, we’re so very compatible and alike. But those things do not hold together a marriage when there is so much resentment built up on both sides. Yes, there is also hurt. It’s never easy finding out your partner is seeing someone else, especially when _this_ time it wasn’t something we agreed to. I didn’t know he’d been seeing William all this time. It’s been most of the time I’ve been on Exeter, Chris. Maybe even before that emotionally. They’ve worked together about three years now. I think Allen loves him. I can tell from the way he looks at him. I’m not blind, Chris. I know I’ve lost him. I know it’s just as much my fault as his. Right now we’re both working on forgiving each other. Yes, maybe we’re not exactly doing it the healthy way by having sex, but that’s all we’re doing, Chris. Just like all I’m doing is having sex with Sato. It’s release. It’s comfort. It’s _needed_. 

Allen will be happier this way. He can retire with someone that wants the same thing. Me? I’m not so sure anymore. Right now Txanton is my main concern. I have been thinking about Evelyn a lot lately. I might just look her up when things are finalized with Allen. Until then, I’m just concentrating on being here for the kids and looking forward to being back on Exeter with you. 

Take care, and I hope my words can help you in the trials you are currently going through with Len. The best advice I can give you--is for neither of you to _ever_ give up what makes you truly happy. If you want to stay in space until you’re ninety, Chris, stay in space. If someone loves you, truly loves you, they would never ask you to be anything else than who you are. 

Philip 

 

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. McCoy Pike  
Friday 2261.031**

 

Well, where to start. I guess where I left off. Which honestly without looking at my last entry I don’t even know anymore. It’s like I a need a scorecard for my own fucking life. Doubt that would help at this point. Shit. 

I went all out for our dinner. I not only had them prepare pot roast, but I traded some of my wine stash for some fresh peaches from the botany lab and had them make peach cobbler for dessert. I figured I needed all the help I could get. I didn’t really expect to be ‘talking’ during dinner. Hell, I guess I didn’t know what to expect. I was trying to keep Philip’s comm in my mind, learn from what he’s going though so I don’t make the same mistakes. I assumed we’d eat and then go sit on the couch with wine. Not like I know how this works. Best laid plans don’t apply when you have an angry husband. Len was having none of that. He walked in all business. He was ready to ‘talk’ from the moment he arrived and sat down at the table I’d set up. 

My husband is smart. Sometimes I forget how smart he is. He started easy on me. Asked about Philip and Allen. He then explained what was going on medically in terms I’d understand with about my godson. He told me about Nyota and Spock and their plans on New Vulcan for shore leave next month. I thought things were going pretty well. Until he casually mentioned that Nyota had invited him to stay on New Vulcan instead of heading to Risa with Exeter. She wants him at their ceremony. Wants both of us, actually. Problem is, I can’t just stay here. I have to proceed with Exeter to Risa. Nyota knew that when she told Len I was welcome. Which means Len will be there for a few days before I can get back. 

I have to hand it to Len. He didn’t bring up Jim at all. He let me do the honors and I did by putting my foot in my mouth as usual. I mentioned that I was surprised he was going to leave Jim on his own on Risa, knowing what kind of trouble he could get himself into. He told me that Jim was leaving on the same ship as Spock, Nyota, and the rest of the bridge crew who would all be there for the ceremony. I told him he couldn’t seriously be telling me that Jim was giving up shore leave on Risa for a wedding. Why the hell would he do that? His answer was simple and direct: 1) Because he’s loyal to his command crew and wouldn’t miss something important for any of us. 2) Because I asked him to come with me. Yes, Christopher, that foot must taste really good for it to be in your mouth so much. 

Luckily, my door chimed bringing dessert at that time. Who knew Christopher Pike would need to be bailed out by peach cobbler? Luckily it had the desired effect on not only Len, but me too. I got up the nerve to ask him what he needed from me. Just like that and we were talking. A real conversation. He told me that he didn’t want me to interrupt him and to just listen for once. And I did. I shut up (wisely) and let him. It wasn’t easy. I might have been gripping the table harder than I should as he took me to task for not being able to separate Chris the Captain from Chris the Husband. I might also have an indent in my mouth where I was biting at my cheek. But when he was done, he took a shuddering breath and looked at me with those eyes and I -- well, I realized something. He was right. He was absolutely right. 

I do treat him differently away from the ship, away from Starfleet. In some ways I knew that, but part of me also knows he _likes_ seeing me in command. Showing my authority. Hell, he gets off from video I’ve sent him of me running drills and sims. What I didn’t realize is that other than in _play_ it might not be the same directed towards _him_. I think I have overcompensated, wanting to make sure no one can make any judgement of impropriety or that I’m letting things slide with him. I know I can’t change who I am, and he even told me he wouldn’t expect me to. That he was wrong to think any differently and he was _trying_ to take that into account. But he made it pretty clear that he expected it to be different once I crossed the threshold of our quarters which I really haven’t been any different at all. He told me how much he’d missed me this month. Here we’d spent over a month together and he said he missed me more than when we were apart. That was hard to hear, but again, he was right. Not easy for me to admit. I think it meant a lot to him that I did. 

We were holding hands at this point across the table. I don’t think I’ve done that the entire time he’s been aboard. I don’t know what it is about being on my ship that causes me to forget the little things -- the _important_ things. How much grief could I have saved both of us if I’d just taken a few minutes each day to sit on my damn couch and hold my husband’s hand and just _listen_ to him talk about his day. Idiot, thy name is Christopher Pike. Jesus. 

It got harder from there. He told me under no certain terms that anything with Jim was going to change. While I knew that, him saying it with such determination in his eyes, such conviction -- that was difficult, but I _needed_ to hear it, too. He’s told me in comms before, but it’s different in person. Having him look me in the eye and seeing how much he meant it. Shit, that was hard to swallow. I told him that I do feel ashamed at how I feel sometimes. He told me that he knows that. He told me that he’s tired of feeling guilty or thinking about what I’d think if he spends the night on Jim’s couch or vice versa. I hadn’t thought of it that way. I certainly never intended to make him feel that way. My intentions hardly matter, though, because I did. 

We talked about how I appreciated that he has stepped back from being a doctor around me. I told him that I wished I could turn off the ‘Captain’ as easily has he is turning off fussing over me about my new regimen. He told me that it wasn’t easy at all. That he struggles to not butt in and say something all day. That made me feel pretty inadequate, that I can’t do the same when I need to and I told him that. He squeezed my hand and told me that we both need to just keep working and _talking_ instead of just ignoring things like we have. It was smart of him to turn my care over to Dr. Vawter when he came aboard as temporary CMO. He’s still closely monitoring everything, of course, but I’m sure things would be worse if we were butting heads over my diet and exercise plan too. Unfortunately I can’t turn over being Captain to someone else. He did smile when I told him that. 

They hardest part for me to bring up was surprisingly not about Jim. It was really hard trying to talk to him about his protocol in meetings. When I said something, he basically looked at me and said, ‘So you’re telling me I need to learn when to keep my mouth shut,’ and I nodded. There have been a couple of times where I’ve had to verbally reprimand him in front of my command crew. It’s not like I _wanted_ to, but I would do the same with any other crew member that was out of order. We talked pretty openly about how we’re both learning here and just talking like that was. Well, it was good. I still stumble and can’t seem to articulate words, but he’s more patient with that now. He takes a deep breath and reiterates what I thought I said which sometimes makes us both laugh when it’s not what I meant at all. 

Mostly, I told him I felt bad because he’s so much better at this than I am. He’s for the most part able to control his temper. Oh, he has his moments, of course, but not like when we were first together. He sighed and admitted that he could be a little easier on me, that changes don’t take place overnight. He’s just so frustrated with the Jim issue that it makes him blind to things that _have_ changed. 

By the time we’d eaten two helpings each of peach cobbler, we were both talked out. I wasn’t sure what came next. I’d missed him so much, and I wanted nothing more than to stand up and pull him into my arms and then take him to our bed and make love to him. For once though, instead of acting at it I simply told him. I could see him struggling and a month ago I might have taken advantage of that struggle. This time, I simply waited while he considered what I’d said. 

When he finally answered I already knew what he was going to say. He told me as much as he was tempted, that he’s missed me so much, that he needed time. That one night of talking didn’t make up for everything that was said, that hasn’t been said all this time. I hope I took it as gracefully as I think I did. He did let me hug and kiss him before he left back to Philip’s quarters. I’ll admit him leaving _did_ hurt, but we both had a lot to think about. 

I got ready for bed and read Philip’s comm again. I then sent a comm to my husband telling him that I loved him. That I needed him and I understood and that I’d be here waiting when he was ready. I felt a little satisfaction when I sent it. That maybe I’d finally learned something, and done something right. I certainly hope so. We only have a couple of weeks left together on Exeter and the time during the end of shore leave. Then I won’t see him until our wedding in September. 

I want the time back that I’ve wasted the last month. What a fool I am. 

 

 **Personal Journal of Leonard H McCoy  
Saturday 2261.032 **

I have a day off and I don’t know what to do with myself. If I was on Enterprise, it wouldn’t be a problem. While I have gotten to know some of the crew on the Exeter, I wouldn’t call any of them friends. Makes me goddamn homesick more than I already am. Chris is on duty. He’s _always_ on duty. Damn fool doesn’t take a day off. Loose ends and I have never been friends. 

Chris and I talked last night. We spent about two hours talking. It was strange. It was like having a first date with someone you already know, but a lot of it was awkward. We both stumbled over words. I don’t know about Chris, but I was terrified of saying the wrong thing. My heart was pounding in my chest when I told him I wasn’t changing anything with my friendship with Jim. He took it surprisingly well. It all went too damn well if you ask me. Oh hell, I don’t know. He thinks I’m handling this so much better than he is. That’s a crock of shit if I ever heard it. 

Walking out of our quarters last night was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I almost turned around once I was outside. I stood outside his door trying to gather my wits. I wanted to go back inside so much it hurt. I knew it was best to go back to Philip’s quarters. So I did. I commed Jim and I think he could tell right away that I needed distracting so he told me all about his girl of the week. Or actually, he really _didn’t_ tell me much and that is much more telling than anything. 

Her name is Carol Marcus. She’s a molecular biologist. A civilian assigned to the Equinox. She’s five years older than Jim and wouldn’t give him the time of day the first time they met when she toured Enterprise. Boy, I bet that threw him for a loop. Of course, my Jim is nothing if not persistent. Apparently he _wrote_ her after she went back to Equinox. He figured if I could land a billionaire playboy that way, he certainly could score a nooner with her. Jim is nothing but classy, too. 

There is something different with this one. I can’t put my finger on it but I’d bet all the moonshine in my great grandpappy’s still that he might be a bit smitten. He’s surprisingly closed mouth about her. He knows I never want to hear the sordid details of his sex life, but he’s never been this quiet. He always has some tidbit about the size of her tits or the long legs that wrap around him. He says those things on purpose to get a rise out of me. I know that. I’m no fool. I react that way because I love to see the way he smiles when I do. Damn kid needs to smile more if you ask me. 

Apparently she’s now on Enterprise ‘working’ in their labs. Something about Enterprise having better sensors that her team needs to finish their project. Uh huh. I’m happy for him and relieved. He needs this right now. He’s been wound up so tight with everything going on - The pressure and the scrutiny he’s under is goddamn unfair and I’d like to tell the brass where they can stick it. 

Huh. I’ve managed to waste a whole hour. Whoop dee doo. Guess I’ll go to the gym and then it will be time for lunch. I don’t know if I’m supposed to comm Chris or what happens now. How did it get so awkward with my own goddamn husband? Am I supposed to plan the next date? Or when we see each other next? Oh hell, this is like being in high school waiting for someone to call you after you’ve given them your number. 

Goddamn, I need a blow job. 

 

**To Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
Sunday 2261.033 

 

Bones! 

 

Where are you, man? It’s not like you to miss our vidcomm time. Hopefully you and Chris have kissed and made up... Wait, I need to erase that picture from my mind. I’ll just think of the hot blonde sitting on my lap. There, that’s better. 

Anyway, comm me as soon as you get this so I know you’re okay. I worry, Bones. Don’t make me worry. 

Jim 

 

 **To James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
** From Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Monday 2261.034 

 

Jim, 

 

Sorry I missed you last night, kid. I guess we’re playing comm tag now since you aren’t answering either. I had the weekend off and ended up sleeping most of the time including last night. I’m sorry, I just closed my eyes for a few minutes while working on a research paper. Next thing I knew it was morning. Guess I needed the sleep. 

 

Today I had a busy day in sick bay as we inoculated a quarter of the crew. Since things have been quiet with the threats from Terra Prime, the crew is going to start rotating shifts down on New Vulcan helping them to build several new housing settlements. So it will be a busy week for me at least. 

Haven’t heard from Chris since our dinner and the comm he sent me after. Apparently he’s been down on New Vulcan all weekend coordinating with their elders. Maybe I was supposed to comm him since he asked me to dinner last. Oh hell, I don’t know anymore. I’m tired of this. I want to be back on Enterprise so things will get back to normal. 

Huh, speak of the devil. I just got a comm from Chris. He wants me to meet him down on New Vulcan at 1600 tomorrow. Seems kinda late for me to be helping with anything they are doing and too early for the diplomatic dinners I heard he’s been at. Leave it to the bastard to be cryptic and not tell me anything. 

Since I don’t know what he has planned for tomorrow, let’s try to comm at 1230 hours tomorrow during our lunch, okay?

Behave yourself, you hear me! 

Bones  



	64. And Then They Rested On A Rock

**Title:** And Then They Rested On A Rock - (Part 58 of To Talk of Many Things)  
 **Author:** mga1999   
**Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating** : NC-17  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count** : Around 3000  
 **Summary:** The continuing correspondence of... yeah, you know the drill.  
 **Disclaimer:** Any resemblance to anything whatsoever is purely coincidental.  
 **Authors' Notes** : I’m SO sorry this is late. RL & a bus strike have made my commute at least six times longer than usual this week and it has bitten my ass. There was meant to be more, but I wanted to get _something_ up and I bring pr0n. Am I forgiven? Thank you to weepingnaiad for the beta, abigail89 for the cheer-leading and the gals in jim_and_bones Word Wars for the encouragement to get words down! xxoo 

 

 

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy  
Thursday 2261.037**

 

I moved back into Chris’s quarters today. Goddamn it felt good, but there is - Hell, I don’t know. I suppose I’m just still upset that it got to the point that I had to move out in the goddamn first place. I’m gonna do like Jim told me last night when I was contemplating the move and just take it a day at a time. My post here is almost done and I’ll be back on Enterprise where I belong in a few weeks. It hurts to type that despite knowing it’s the truth. Chris still seems to think that somewhere down the road things might be different enough to try again, but it ain’t gonna happen anytime soon as far as I’m concerned. I love my husband, but my place is with Jim on the Enterprise. I know that now.

 

I guess this is where I should back up and do some splainin’. I also want to get this down to remember every memorable moment. Chris had told me to meet him on New Vulcan on Tuesday at 1600. He arranged for me to be off early. At lunch I got a comm from him that told me to dress in civvies, the less the better, and that the transporter room was expecting me. I sent a return comm asking what the hell he meant but didn’t get a response. Bastard. After conferring with another doctor that had been down on the surface the day before, I settled for a pair of shorts and short sleeved t-shirt.

 

I felt damn uncomfortable walking from Philip’s quarters to the transporter room in shorts. When I arrived, they were expecting me and beamed me down right away to the coordinates Chris had obviously given them. I emerged in a clearing surrounded by rocks and not much else. Chris of course was no where to be seen. I was just about to hail the Exeter when he drove up wearing cargo shorts and a tank top. He was sweaty and had obviously been outside working. Goddamn him and his ability to affect me so easily. He knew it too from the sly grin he had on his face when he saw me give him a once over.

 

He walked over and gave me a quick kiss, grabbed my hand and pulled me along a path by the rocks. A few minutes later we were sitting on a big rock overlooking a valley, the sun low on the horizon. I almost opened my mouth several times to ask what the hell was going on, but every time I was about to he just squeezed my hand and somehow I knew to shut up. Twenty minutes later as the sun descended below the horizon the sky was so full of color, it was breathtaking. Then it hit me that my goddamn husband had brought me out to watch a goddamn sunset and I knew I was in trouble. _Big_ trouble. Bastard.

 

We watched until the tip of the sun disappeared and, still silent, he tugged my hand, pulling me along the path around some rocks where the small two person transport vehicle was waiting. After a short drive, we pulled up to the new Federation Diplomatic Headquarters and the enclave of diplomatic buildings surrounding it. They have built it far from the main Vulcan settlement of V’Tesh. I’m still not sure why, but I guess when your entire planet was destroyed, you don’t want any other races anywhere near your people. We got out and walked down several paths to a series of what looked like small compounds off the main building. Diplomatic quarters I guessed.

 

Chris pulled me down the path to the one furthest from the main building, opening up the door with a code and ushering me in. I walked into the room, sparsely furnished with a big glass window that overlooked a canyon. I didn’t learn that until the next morning as it was hard to see with the sun down. Not wasting any time, he tugged my hand and took me down a short hallway where we entered the bedroom. My eyes widened when I stepped inside. There in the center of the room was the biggest bed I’ve ever seen in my life.

 

He was standing behind me not touching me until his lips brushed against my ear as he whispered, “These are the visitor quarters they built with the Andorians in mind. The bed is big because, as you know, there are usually four of them that share it.” His hands clasped my biceps and my skin was pebbled with goosebumps from his breath on my neck and his touch. It had been too damn long, and as much as I was still angry, I knew there was no way I was walking out of the room. He leaned his body against me and I could feel him hardening. 

 

“Chris,” I whispered, only to be interrupted by him turning me around to face him. He put his finger on my mouth and shook his head. He told me we were done talking. That we had two hours before we were due at Ambassador Spock’s house for supper and that we weren’t leaving the bed until then. He stepped to the side and pulled his tank top off over his head. Damn he was looking good. His new regimen is doing wonders. He is finally gaining back some of the weight he’d lost, the muscle tone. His abs are becoming well defined again. The cargo shorts he was wearing hung low on his hips and it was all I could do not to drop to my knees and lick a path down his hipbone. He saw me looking at him, more like salivating, and that sly smile flashed across his face. He knew exactly what he was doing, and hell if I cared. 

 

“Take it off,” he told me as he finished stripping. He crawled onto and across the bed, slowly, teasing me. I couldn’t take my eyes off the bastard, that naked ass, as he moved to the center before rolling over, his hardening cock grabbing my attention. I was still dressed, frozen from the little show he’d given me. “Leonard,” he commanded, bringing me back to my senses. I quickly stripped down and crawled up onto the bed falling next to him.

His kiss was bruising as he licked into my mouth. It had been too damn long since he’d kissed me like this, since we’d been together. I figured he would be fast and furious, but he took his time, teasing me mercilessly. He had me on edge, kissing me all over, must have spent twenty minutes just on my nipples. They were so sensitive I was practically begging him to stop. But he didn’t. He was relentless, kissing me everywhere before settling between my legs and taking my dick into his mouth. I nearly came the moment he sealed his mouth over me and he knew it the bastard. Somehow I held out to wipe off that smile he had on his lips as he swallowed me down. I came when he twisted one of my nipples hard, spurting down his throat and crying out in blissful agony.

 

Jesus, I’m getting hard just thinking about that night. It didn’t end there. He hardly let me recover before he was kissing me everywhere again, his hands all over me. Somehow he managed to lube up his fingers and then one was in me, then two, stretching me, and before I knew it, he’d pushed inside me, filling me. He fucked me open, thrusting so slowly, our mouths fused and gasping for breath, our bodies drenched in sweat, sliding together. He hadn’t made love to me like that in - Huh, it was in Georgia, I think. He told me he wasn’t going to come until I was ready again, and that if he had to fuck me raw waiting, he would. Damn stubborn bastard. I hate the control he has being able to hold out so long. That he has control over me, and that with a few words and well placed thrusts he can make me hard again. He nudged my prostate just enough, not hitting it fully. Damn bastard is good at that, too.

 

His hand wrapped around my cock, helping it along while whispering - Fuck, he whispered the sweetest damn things in my ear. How much he loved me. How much I’d changed his life. That it scared him sometimes how much he needed me. How good it felt to be inside me. Surrounded by me. By this time he was nailing my prostate with every stroke, jacking me hard, and when he whispered so softly in my ear, “I love you, Leonard McCoy. Love you so much,” I shattered and came, sending him over the edge, too. It was - God, it was amazing. I felt so loved. So goddamn cherished it almost made me feel like a fool for the last few weeks staying away from him. 

 

We didn’t get much time to relax after as it had been almost two hours of him taking me apart. I could hardly walk to the shower I was so goddamn relaxed. It was like I had no bones. He didn’t say a goddamn thing when we were in the shower. I wasn’t sure what to say myself. He was done before me and when I came back out, he was dressing in a Vulcan robe. He turned and handed one to me and I finished toweling off before putting it on, watching how he was fastening his. I told him he’d forgotten something, looking down to point out the lack of underwear. He looked at me and smiled and told me, ‘No I didn’t.” Bastard.

 

Thirty minutes later we were sitting at a table with Ambassador Spock, Sarek, and their wives. Wives plural. The elder Spock has two wives and two babies already. Sarek has one very pregnant wife and a bondmate-to-be, I suppose you’d call her. I knew that the Vulcans were desperate to propagate, but this was just goddamn crazy. Of course they see it as nothing but logical. They have used long known microbes to induce Pon Farr when needed so they don’t have to wait seven years. Their population growth is quite impressive if you look at the numbers. There were far more women that survived the genocide, so part of me understands the polygamy. The other part of me will never understand how anyone could share their life so intimately with more than one person.

 

All in all it was a nice supper. It’s still goddamn odd to be sitting with an older version of our Spock from Enterprise. They are absolutely nothing alike, which believe me is a good thing. I actually _like_ this Spock and the same can’t be said about his counterpart. He seems genuinely happy. Chris invited him to the wedding, but he had to decline as his first wife is expecting again, due right around the time of the ceremony. Sarek accepted, said he would be honored. It was an odd meal, I mean Jesus, we were sitting there with a Spock from an alternate universe and a man who would be his father but is over a hundred years younger. It’s gonna be a damn interesting wedding or bonding ceremony or whatever the hell they call it for Spock and Uhura, that’s for sure.

 

The drive back to Chris’s room was quiet. I could tell Chris had something on his mind. He opened his mouth several times to say something but didn’t. It hurt me that he felt like he couldn’t say what was on his mind. That he was unsure. I knew it was my fault, yet I was also proud of him for thinking - for considering what he was going to say. He was learning - we’re both learning, and that was a nice feeling despite it all.

 

It was late when we arrived back at his room. I wasn’t sure if I was leaving or what was going on. He walked in and went to the desk checking the console taking care of what I’m sure were matters from Exeter. I told him I was going to go change and, without looking up, he told me in his authoritative voice not to. To stay in my robe. Because when he was done with ship business I was going to fuck him while wearing it. He said he’d been thinking about it all night, knowing we were both naked under our robes. Goddamn him. 

 

Ten minutes later he was bent over the desk and I was pounding into him hard. It was fucking hot, both of us still fully clothed and me balls deep in him. Somehow I kept up the ridiculous pace for quite awhile until I shuddered inside of him, collapsing on his back, both of us gasping for breath. When I’d taken a few breaths, I reached around, finding his cock through the fabric and started rubbing it. He gasped and shook his head and pushed up, batting my hand away. He turned around and kissed me, pushing on my shoulders, pushing me down. He told me to suck him dry and then he lifted his robe, draping it over me. Fuck it was hot, being on my knees, cloaked in the dark under his robe. His hand was still on my head through the fabric, and from the creaking it sounded like the other was gripping the desk. It didn’t take long before he was spurting down my throat and I did as he commanded, I sucked and licked him dry until there wasn’t a drop left. 

 

We were both drenched in sweat at this point. It was hotter than all heck under his robe when I was sucking him. My hair was plastered to my head. He stripped me then and I stripped him and we walked into the bedroom and collapsed on the bed. He pulled one side of the blanket over us and curled up behind me. I was asleep before he pulled the other side of the blanket up. 

 

I woke up the next morning with the bed next to me empty. I was pissed to see that he’d let me oversleep. I was late for duty and let out a tirade of epic proportions trying to find my goddamn communicator. He must have heard my swearing because he walked in naked, gloriously naked, with a hot cup of coffee telling me to relax, that we were both off the duty roster for today. If I wasn’t so goddamn relieved I wasn’t late I would have been furious at him for messing with _my_ duty roster. He handed me the cup of coffee and gave me a kiss and told me to join him in the shower when I was through being pissed at him for taking me off duty. Bastard.

 

Ten minutes later I was in the shower and he was on his knees sucking my brain out through my dick. The rest of the morning involved more of the same and fucking on every corner of that goddamn huge bed. He kept making comments about Andorians. And how fucking hot it must be to be part of a foursome. In some ways it disgusted me, in others it turned me on. The idea of having someone inside me, and then being inside someone else. Chris seemed to read my mind and told me we’d have to try it with a dildo soon and all I could mumble was ‘Fuck yeah.’ My vocabulary when he’s fucking me is just dandy. 

 

After a nap and lunch, he told me we were due inside the city to help at one of the construction sites. I told him that I didn’t think I could move and he gave me that look. Fifteen minutes later I was in jeans and a t-shirt he’d packed for me and we were on our way. Needless to say I think Chris and I spent more time watching each other in our jeans than working. The sight of him bending over in his loose jeans, his t-shirt riding up exposing skin, his muscles flexing as he drove the hammer sealing the partitions together or even when he was holding a laser welder sealing the plastex around the windows. All I could think about was rebuilding the barn at my Georgia property by hand, the old fashioned way with nails and wood and Jesus Leonard, get a grip. I’m so goddamn hard right now. This entire entry is like one of Jim’s porno movies.

 

Speaking of Jim... almost time to comm the menace. I better go take care of my little problem before it’s time. Chris said he’d be here for dinner and I can’t wait. 

 

My tongue has a date with his hipbone.  



	65. Are Very Good Indeed

**Title:** Are Very Good Indeed - (Part 59 of To Talk of Many Things)  
 **Author:** mga1999   
**Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating** : NC-17  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** The SAP factor might possibly garner a warning towards the end. *g*  
 **Word Count** : Around 5000  
 **Summary:** The continuing correspondence of... yeah, you know the drill.  
 **Disclaimer:** Any resemblance to anything whatsoever is purely coincidental.  
 **Authors' Notes** : I will do my best to be back on the Tuesday posting schedule next week. HEAR THAT LIFE. Thank you to abigail89 for the beta. Any leftover mistakes are the result of my exhausted eyes. 

 

**To Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
Friday 2261.038 

 

Hey Bones, 

Enterprise is going radio silent until shortly before shore leave. Sorry I couldn’t catch you. Last minute orders. Glad you’ve moved back in with Chris. I’m relieved you won’t be alone... That I won’t be letting you down not being able to vidcomm with you every day. 

I’ll be fine. I promise. Don’t worry, okay? You have enough lines on your face already. 

Love, 

Jim 

P.S. Carol went back to Equinox yesterday. I think I might miss her, Bones. What does that mean? 

 

 **To: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
** From Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
Saturday 2261.039 

 

Dear Jim, 

 

It means you miss her, you idiot. Really, Jim? And you’re a starship captain? God help us all. 

Chris can’t tell me a damn thing about this mission you are on. He doesn’t know. Or if he does know he isn’t telling me. God dammit. 

I hate writing to you when I know you aren’t going to get it until who knows how long. I feel like a crazy person. 

Oh wait, I hate space and the military, yet look at where I am and who my best friend is. 

I might as well be talking to myself. Which apparently I’m doing right now. I’m gonna send this before I make more of a damn fool of myself. 

You better be okay, Jim. You hear me? 

Love you, kid, 

Bones 

 

 **To: Philip Boyce (pboyce@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Sunday 2261.040 

 

Dear Philip, 

Yes, I think I get it now. Maybe not entirely, but I can understand everything you said. I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same or handle it all half as well as you and Allen have. Hell, I know I wouldn’t. I was a first rate asshole to Robin when she left me the first time. Lisa too during the divorce. Look at how long it took me to get my head out of my ass this time with Len. As much as I love Len, and God, Philip, I love that man, sometimes I wonder if he’d be better off if I didn’t. I’m selfish wanting him all to myself and I know I really need to work on that. 

I got to talk to my godson last night. Or at least see him since his voice is still damaged from the ventilator. I’m sorry you weren’t there. Allen looks good. You’re right, he looks happy. I met William, too, and it wasn’t as awkward as I expected. He seems like a good man, Philip. Not that I would expect Allen to leave you for someone who wasn’t. He was very respectful and left the room to give us all time alone. To see Txanton move the arm that has been paralyzed brought tears to my eyes. I will keep praying he continues to gain more strength and movement. 

As for me? I scared the hell out of Len last night. I passed out in the shower. No idea why. He heard me hit the wall and after a couple hours in medical other than a little low blood sugar and blood pressure, they couldn’t find anything wrong. Personally, I think it’s just a combination of not being able to sleep well for a couple of weeks with Len living in your quarters and, okay, I was working myself a little harder than I should have. I have been following the diet and exercise plan to a ‘T’ as ordered. 

 

Things with Len are better. I know we have a lot of work to do, but I’m trying to pay attention. We’ve talked. We spent a couple nights on New Vulcan. We worked at one of the settlements they are building and tried out the bed in the Andorians quarters. Jesus, Phil, if you get a chance to go there, I highly recommend that bed! I’m trying to make sure we have dinner together at least every other night. I make sure I’m back in our quarters before he goes to sleep on the nights I can’t. I’m mindful of not just steering him towards the bed without asking about his day. We did, however, have a pretty interesting -- well, we both kind of got off on telling each other about our days while we were having sex last night on the couch. It was -- very intense. Another reason why I probably passed out in the shower. Wasn’t sure quite how to explain that earlier. But we’ve been friends for almost thirty-seven years now. We were lovers for three. I don’t know why we’ve never talked openly about things like this before. No wonder our relationship didn’t go anywhere. I’m surprised you even stayed friends with me. I’m apparently a terrible friend. I’m told friends talk about these things by Dr. Rossen, and since you opened up in your last comm, I hope me reciprocating is the right step in that direction. 

 

Oh hell, Philip, I don’t know what I’m doing half the time lately. I don’t know if I should be encouraging you to keep having sex with Allen or not. Does William know? I mean, what’s going to happen if he doesn’t and finds out? I’m sure you’ve thought about that. Hell, I know when I used to sleep with people involved with others -- the high you get from it. Not some of my proudest moments, but we all have them. I just don’t want you get hurt more than you already have, Philip. I know I’m not good at this emotional shit, but I know you are hurting and I”m sorry I wasn’t a better friend to see that. Forgive me? 

 

I will try to catch you at the hospital tomorrow night. Allen was kind enough to tell me you’d probably be there since he and William will be at a dinner party. Right now, I have a dinner to prepare for Len. I’ve commandeered the executive kitchen at 1930. I was gifted some kind of Vulcan swordfish when I was down helping on the surface today and Sarek’s wife gave me a recipe I’m going to try out. Should be a wonderful evening. 

Take care, Philip. 

Love, 

Chris 

 

**Richard Barnett (rbarnett@starfleet.gov)  
** Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Monday 2261.041 

 

Dear Richard,

 

What the hell is going on with Enterprise and why haven’t I been copied by the Admiralty? I understand need-to-know, Richard, but since I was _appointed_ to the very committee I seem to now be shut out of by Komack, care to explain to me what the fuck is going on? 

It was bad enough when Jim pulled that stunt and I had no idea if Len was okay. Right now, Len is worried out of his mind and it’s only been a couple of days. Things have been difficult enough for us without this happening. 

Help me out here. Should I be worried? 

Chris 

 

 **To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
** From: Philip Boyce (pboyce@starfleet.gov)  
Wednesday 2261.043 

 

There is nothing to forgive, my friend. But since I am working on forgiveness with Allen in counseling right now, I know it’s important to let you ask that if you need to. Yes, Allen and I are seeing a counselor. Before you go getting your hopes up, I filed the divorce yesterday. We’re just airing out some grievances in a safe and healthy environment. We’re trying to do this right for the kids, Chris. I don’t want either of us to have any remaining resentment that could in anyway interfere with our parenting of the children. They all may be grown, but they are still having a hard time. 

I feel particularly terrible about how this has affected Nathan. You know he’s been seeing his boyfriend, Kevin, for over a year now. They were thinking about moving into together, looking at lofts, and now Nathan is getting cold feet and I’m sure it has to do with our divorce. Kevin is being patient so far, but I can tell he’s ready for something serious and now Nathan isn’t. Allen reminded me yesterday that, yes, Nathan might be overthinking things because of us, but if they are meant to be it will happen. I hope he’s right. 

I’m not sure how to start to talk about Allen and I. Yes, I was more hurt than I led on. I don’t want a divorce, Chris. As unhappy as we have both been the last five or six years, I thought that we’d make it through. Even after I left on Exeter and knew I wanted more than one tour. I thought he’d back down. Change his mind. That somehow after I was done gallivanting in space with you that we could pick up the pieces when I was ready to retire. Alas, it was not meant to be. I also know it was unfair of me to hope for that. I deserve better and so does he. 

William doesn’t know that Allen and I are, to put it crudely, fucking. I asked Allen last night what would happen if William found out and he laughed and said that he’d probably ask for a threesome. I’m not quite sure what to make of that. Allen didn’t want to talk about it and quickly changed the subject by sucking my dick. So that should answer your question on that subject. We went to counseling last night after I filed the divorce. And then straight to a hotel room around the corner. I can see you shaking your head at me and I will just say one word to that: Antonio. 

I’m writing this as I sit at Txanton’s bedside. He’s had a rough couple of days. He’s frustrated and his normal positive outlook has been a little gloomy I guess you’d call it. I’m sure it has to do with me filing. He did ask me why I was in such a rush and I had to carefully tell him in a way that a twenty-two year old would understand that I basically couldn’t condone being ‘married’ when my husband was practically living with someone else. Yes, I did feel hypocritical, Chris. I know exactly everything I’m doing wrong right now. I’m simply trying to get by the best I can. It’s hard going back to our house all alone. So many memories there. Hard to sleep in our bed alone. Now I understand why people sell houses so quickly after a divorce and move to new places. I have no plans of doing that, I want the kids to still know their home is here even if they are grown. They still come back when they need to. Nathan is here tonight. Kianna has been coming home on the weekend. I do think I need to make some changes in the bedroom soon. That my friend, is easier said than done. 

I admit being able to talk to you like this is one bright spot out of all of this. Our relationship didn’t work, Chris, because we didn’t love each other. Sure, there was fondness, but it was mostly lust and you know it. It was easy and at the time, both of us tearing up Starfleet, it was just what we both needed. I don’t regret it and I hope you don’t either. We were young, Chris. I was eighteen years old the first time I laid eyes on you. I’d only had a couple boyfriends, if you’d call them that. More like a couple guys I’d fumbled through sex with. And there you were with your confidence and no wonder I was in your bed three hours after we’d met. We became real men at Starfleet together those three years. I could never regret any of that. I was always grateful, and still am, that we remained friends. 

I know I’m not helping myself sleeping with Allen. Sometimes I feel like a fool in doing so. I guess that I just like the fact that he still wants me, still desires me, after all these years. Maybe he’s using me. Maybe we’re using each other. Right now, I still am going with the fact that we need it. In some ways that makes me feel sorry for Allen. It’s apparent he loves William very much and while I can tell that William does have feelings for him, I don’t know. Maybe I’m projecting what I want to see. Or am not seeing things on purpose. When you’ve loved someone for so long, you can’t just turn it off overnight. Or ever. No matter how much you’ve been hurt. Can you blame me for wanting to hold on to what I can get as long as I can? I know that’s not healthy, Chris, but I’ll get there. I promise. 

Now, I think Nathan and I are going head home and play some poker. We haven’t done that for awhile. Hopefully I can get him to talk about why he’s trying to ruin things with Kevin. God knows those two are crazy in love. Of course, I’m learning the hard way. Sometimes love isn’t enough. 

 

Love, 

Philip 

 

 

 **Personal Journal of Christopher R. McCoy Pike  
Saturday 2261.46**

 

It’s been awhile since I’ve written here. I honestly haven’t had time. I’ve been trying to make time, to spend time with Len so it doesn’t leave me much time for anything else. It’s been a long week, but a good one. Things with Len and I are settling I think. I hope. There is an air of, I don’t know how to explain it exactly. Wariness maybe? We only have a little over a week left together on Exeter and I know that I’m doing everything I can to make things right and I’m sure he is, too. So it’s almost like we’re both trying too hard. I don’t know. Maybe I’m reading too much into it. 

 

Len has also been worried about Jim. There hasn’t been any word, and Richard told me he’s not in the loop either. I hope to God they aren’t setting him up. Len asked me that the other night. If maybe that was why they hadn’t told me. From what I have found out, only Komack and Archer seem to have any knowledge of what’s transpiring. Archer is in Jim’s corner so I’m not as worried as I was. That doesn’t keep my husband from constantly checking his comm. I’m handling it better than usual. At least I think I am. I’m trying to be supportive. I know he’s upset. Hell, I’m worried too. Luckily we’re busy on the surface and the ship and will be until shore leave. 

 

Philip and I have had some good talks lately. By both vidcomm and writing to each other. It feels good to be able to be there for him. He’s done so much for me for so long, not getting back half of what he deserved. I’m starting to realize what a good friend he’s been to me all these years and how much I’ve taken it for granted. My heart is breaking for him right now. He’s holding up so well, all things considered. I still don’t know what I’m supposed to say about he and Allen still getting together regularly. Part of me, I guess the hopeless romantic part, hopes they will still come to their senses. It was really hard for me to hear that he filed the divorce. In thirty days, thirty-one years of marriage will be no more. It’s hard to imagine them _not_ together. 

 

At times I want to blame Philip. Other times, Allen. Philip is right, though, it’s both their faults in their own ways. I certainly can’t tell Philip to retire and stay on Earth considering I wasn’t ever willing to do that. I wouldn’t now either. There just isn’t any magical answer and I guess therein lies the problem. It has made me do some hard thinking myself. Forced me to have a hard conversation with Len a couple nights ago. I thought the one we had after our fight was bad enough -- this one was -- Well, I was terrified. It wasn’t just about Philip & Allen, but the time we’ve spent on New Vulcan, too. I have to admit seeing my husband holding Ambassador Spock’s one year old son and four month old daughter brought up that subject, too. He’s amazing with babies which surprised me. After all his hesitation on whether he even wanted kids. I’ll admit that scared the heck out of me when he first told me that. I know I would have been okay if we didn’t, but I _want_ kids. I’ve never wanted them more after seeing my husband cooing and rocking that baby girl in his arms. When she fell asleep on his chest all bunched up in a little ball, I wanted to quit Starfleet and haul him back to Earth and start making babies as soon as possible. 

 

So we sat down with a bottle of wine the other night and talked about it. What we expected from each other and I think we were surprised to find that both of our views have changed slightly. Len told me that talking to Nyota, helping her plan having a baby with Spock and their plan to raise the baby on the ship -- Well, he’s not as opposed to that as he once was. We both agree it’s not ideal, and that still doesn’t solve the problem of us being on different ships, but for now, the plan is to discuss it again after my first tour is over. We both know anything can happen, so we’ve also made an appointment while we are on Risa to visit a reproduction clinic and start the process of harvesting genetic material to create eggs so they can be fertilized to make zygotes to store. We’re still not sure if we’re going to use a surrogate, or an artificial womb, but either way, we’re planning for our future. God willing, at the latest, in ten years we’ll have a kid or two. That’s both terrifying and astounding to write and think about. 

I thought that would be the difficult part of our talk, but it wasn’t. Talking about Allen and Philip led to some tough discussion. I think Len still thinks I am going to get bored of him and I admitted I still think he’s going to grow sick of my jealousy and the fact that I’m so much older than he is. We talked pretty openly about the problems that Philip and Allen have had. Philip had told me that he didn’t mind if it would help us. When I brought up what Philip had told me about Allen’s nonchalance about William finding out, and what his reaction would be, Len had looked at me nervously and asking if I wanted that. Wanted a threesome. Was that why I had mentioned the Andorians and their four pair bond? And the dildo in his ass while he’s fucking me? 

 

I’ll admit I was a little dumbfounded when he asked. I hadn’t realized how my harmless intentions might come off as me not being satisfied with just the two of us, especially given my history. I assured him that I had no intent or desire to be with anyone but him. Would a threesome with him and, say, a woman, be hot? Fuck, yeah, and I admitted it would. But I know he isn’t like that. I told him that his ‘old fashionedness’ is actually a great turn on for me. I reminded him of what a possessive bastard I am and while a threesome would be hot, the idea of anyone else even touching him -- well, I honestly don’t think I’d like it very much no matter how ‘hot’ thinking about it was. I told him there was nothing for him to worry about. And then I showed him that. Twice. 

 

With him so worried about Jim, we mostly shelved _that_ issue for now. Still, I admitted to him that it hurts that he would rather be with Jim on Enterprise. Understanding why is one thing, even knowing that we’ve proven we can’t serve on the same ship together. We’d be divorced before we even got a chance to ‘marry’ in September in front of our family and friends. The only reason we’re getting along so well now is we both know it’s almost over. He did make it clear that if I ever gave him an ultimatum like Allen did -- well, he told me exactly what I could do with it and I know he meant it. I’ll admit in my less than stellar moments, I’ve wanted to stomp my foot like a five year old throwing a tantrum and say, ‘Jim or me.’ Those feelings are squelched pretty quickly by something Dr. Rossen told me once. She told me to think about how I would feel if someone I loved gave me an ultimatum like that. Is that the kind of person I’d want to be with. spend my life with? That was a sobering moment, because no, no I wouldn’t. I try to remember that now, how it felt when she pointed that out. That punch in the gut. Now with everything going on with Philip and Allen, it resonates even more. It made me more aware of what a selfish bastard I really can be. Now I just need to find a way to hold onto that when I’m about to be an idiot. 

 

Yesterday was Valentine’s Day. I wasn’t sure if should go all out or not make a big deal of it considering. Things are good with us right now, but as I said earlier, I guess a good euphemism would be that we’re both walking on eggshells. It’s not as bad as that sounds, but neither of us want to fight with so little time left. In some ways I think that’s a good thing, we’ve been able to talk about things we desperately needed to. I’ve made sure we talk everyday. It’s almost like a routine, a schedule. That helps me thinking about it that way. 

 

I will admit I originally was going to take him back down to New Vulcan again and that big bed for Valentine’s Day. After our talk, I didn’t think that would be a good idea. I kept it simple. I was able to get enough rose petals from the botany lab and down on the surface to make a trail from the door to our bedroom. We’d eaten a late lunch together in the officer’s mess, and when I’d talked to him shortly before getting off shift, he told me he didn’t really feel much like eating again. So I skipped preparing a nice dinner and just had the chef whip up a pecan pie and fresh cream instead. 

 

The look on his face when he walked in and saw the red and orange rose petals. I wish I’d taken a holopic. It was a look of shock and then when he smiled at me. . . . Well, that smile turned me inside out. He has the ability to make me lose rational thought. He truly is my ultimate weakness, but also my greatest strength. I walked up to him and tugged his hand, pulling him along behind me into the bedroom. Hearing his gasp behind me when he walked in and saw the candles lit around the room, the rose petals on the bed. For a moment I wondered if it was too much. 

 

He answered me a moment later, pressing his lips to mine, tenderly at first, but then desperate and claiming and I knew exactly how the rest of the evening was going to go. Did I care? Hell no. I let him have control. He undressed me, his lips only leaving mine long enough to pull shirts over heads, unzip pants, and push them down. Our clothes ended up in a tangled heap together as we stumbled to the bed, both naked and hard. I pushed him down on the bed first, because I wanted the memory of him lying there naked in front of me amongst the rose petals. Seeing him there made me need more than a memory. I made him wait for a moment while I searched through the pile of clothes to find my comm to take a holopic. There was no way I wasn’t going to save that moment to look at again and again. His dark tan skin against the sea of red and orange, his cock jutting up purple and leaking. Fuck. I’m the luckiest bastard in the galaxy

 

That was the last moment I had any control over anything. A moment later my comm was falling to the floor as he sat up and pulled me down on top of him. Skin to skin, we kissed, his hands pressed possessively on my ass. He moved his legs so only one of mine was in between his, our cocks grinding awkwardly together. I knew he was doing that on purpose, and the inability to rub against him completely just made it better. He grabbed a handful of rose petals in his hand and started rubbing them on my ass as he pulled us closer together. The contrast of his surgeon's hands and the softness of the rose petals had me nearly bucking on top of him. It wasn’t enough, and I groaned when one of his hands left me, only to gasp a minute later when his lubed finger pressed against my hole. 

 

He was both rough and gentle, preparing me far quicker than usual, pushing in, making it burn, but then gently stretching and opening me up. He purposely avoided my prostate and I squirmed desperately trying to move his fingers towards it. He laughed at me then, and God, how I love his laugh, nipping at my neck, then whispering in my ear for me to sit up and ride him. I shuddered and it took me a moment to regain enough rational thought to do as he commanded. But finally I was on my knees above my husband, sinking down onto his thick cock, taking all of him in, gazing at him lying there amongst the rose petals. I was so fucking hard if he had touched me, I might have shot not only all over his chest but as far as the headboard. 

 

I may have grinned a little triumphantly when he told me not to move yet either. He was just as much on edge as I was. So I leaned down, pulling up just slightly and pressed our lips together, tracing his mouth with my tongue. After our tongues tangled together for a few minutes and we’d both regained some control, I sat up and looked at him, telling him in my best command voice, “Take me, take all of me. I’m yours, and only yours.” The sound that came out of his mouth was somewhere between a sob and a yelp, and then he was bucking up into me. I braced my hands on my thighs as I moved up and down, slowly but steadily as he pressed up into me. It was perfect, so damn perfect. We didn’t rush, but it wasn’t exactly slow either. The little grunts he made each time he thrust up when straight to my cock and when I finally let myself sink down fully each time and he started nailing my prostate each time, I knew neither of us were going to last much longer. 

I looked down at him from what I’m sure where hooded eyes and smiled, or was much as you can smile when buried to the hilt. His hand reached up and wrapped around my cock, the other threading through one of my hands on my thigh, and less than a dozen thrusts later I was shooting all over his chest, and when some landed at the corner of his mouth, he arched into me and came, nearly screaming from the intensity, his head thrown back, that lickable neck exposed. I couldn’t stand it and I collapsed down on top of him, attaching my mouth to his neck, biting him, marking him as we milked the last of our orgasms from each other. I slid off him, feeling his come leaking out, and I have to tell you, I never liked that feeling before. The feeling of someone’s come leaking out of my ass. That’s one reason I never liked bottoming, but with Len, fuck, I love it. I rested on top of him, sliding across his chest as I mouthed at his neck, my come slick on our chests. I licked my come off his neck, his cheek before fusing our mouths together again. We kissed until I slid off of him and we curled up amongst the rose petals. 

 

It was one of the most memorable nights of my life. I will forever look at that holopic I have and remember every moment, every touch, every sound. God, I’m sounding like that sappy old man again and I’m loving it. I love my husband so much. I never thought I would ever have anything like this. As I said before:

 

I am the luckiest bastard in the galaxy.  



	66. Do You Admire The View?

**Title:** Do You Admire The View? - (Part 60 of To Talk of Many Things)  
 **Author:** **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating** : NC-17   
**Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count** : Around 4500   
**Summary:** The continuing correspondence of... yeah, you know the drill.  
 **Disclaimer:** Any resemblance to anything whatsoever is purely coincidental.  
 **Authors' Notes** : Back on schedule! Thank you to abigail89 for the beta. I changed things after she last looked at it, so anything amiss is my fault. 

 

 **Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy  
Tuesday 2261.49 **

 

I think I’m going out of my cotton pickin mind. It’s been eleven days since Enterprise has been out of contact. Chris still hasn’t heard a stitch about what’s going on. They have been cycling the newsnets with Enterprise updates like nothing unusual is going on. That she’s just out on patrol. But she’s not. Jim is who knows where getting in heaps of trouble I’m sure, and I’m not there. I’m not sleeping well, and while I think I’ve kept it hidden from Chris, I’m not sure. He looks at me in the morning like he wants to say something, but he simply kisses me before he leaves for the bridge at ass o’clock as usual. I try to go back to sleep, but my mind churns out nightmare scenarios of what’s going on with Enterprise, with Jim. 

 

I swear to god I want to get another stone from Utaxia to keep track of Jim at times like this. I betcha that wouldn’t go over very well with Chris. I was thinkin’ it would be nice to have one to wear around my neck for times when we are separated. For when he’s on an away mission and I can’t keep an eye on him. Hopefully I won’t ever be separated from him this long anytime in the near future. Two months without the goddamn idiot and I’m going crazy. Codependent fuck-up, thy name is Leonard McCoy. 

 

Chris has been more patient than I probably deserve. He’s been wonderful since I moved back in. He’s working himself too hard though. I feel a bit guilty for that. He’s reporting to the bridge two to three earlier than usual so he can be wrapped up by dinner time. He’s been here every night in the last week. We’ve either spent it in our quarters, or a few times down on the surface. We’ve really been enjoying spending time with Ambassador Spock and his family. I never thought I’d say that about any Spock. I still don’t like _our_ green-blooded hobgoblin and all I can say is he better be taking good care of Jim or he’ll be answerin’ to me. 

 

I’m completely smitten with T’Lordia, Spock and his second wife, T’Mandlin’s almost five month old daughter. She has the biggest brown eyes I’ve ever seen and is just the sweetest little thing. She reaches out for me as soon as she sees me, which even for a mostly Vulcan baby is quite advanced. Screams her little head off if someone tries to take her away. I spent dinner last night with her in a sling on my chest. Chris and I have been talking a lot about having kids now, even have a plan in place. Never thought I’d be thinkin’ about babies and wanting one so much. Lord, what my husband does to me. He’s turned me into a completely different person in some ways, and that ain’t necessarily a bad thing. 

 

I only have five days left on Exeter. Next Monday she heads to Risa for shore leave for two weeks. I’m staying on New Vulcan until, hopefully, Jim and the command crew arrive on Wednesday. The bonding ceremony is going to be that Friday evenin’ and then Jim and I will head to Risa. I’m not sure who’s coming with us. Last I heard from Nyota, Sulu and Chekov were going to stay on New Vulcan. Something about Sulu helping with some of the terraforming or whatever the he does with his little botany hobby. She’s not sure if Scotty is going to tear himself away from Enterprise who will be getting some upgrades back at space dock on Earth. Spock told her he’d make sure Scotty wasn’t allowed to stay on the ship. That will be interesting to see. 

 

Of course this all hinges on Enterprise being done with whatever the hell she’s doing. I know something bad is about to go down. I can feel it in my bones. I nearly fell off the couch earlier when Chris came in our quarters to change to go down the surface a couple of hours ago. I was so startled I must have jumped half a foot in the air. Whenever I get hailed from the bridge in medical, I brace myself thinking someone is calling to give me bad news. I can’t keep going like this much longer and I can’t exactly talk to Chris either. 

 

At least things have settled with us. It’s damn weird though. I mean, I’ll take what I can get, but it’s almost like he’s checking things off a list. He walks in after shift, finds me and gives me a kiss. He goes in to shower if he’s been down on New Vulcan, or just change if he hasn’t. One of his yeoman brings dinner and puts it on the table unless we’re going to the surface. We eat, we talk about our day and when we’re finished he pours wine or I pour a couple fingers of bourbon and we sit on the couch and relax. Sometimes we talk more. Sometimes we put a holovid on. He usually has his PADD and is working as we’re watching something. Of course I do too. We’re both workaholics in the worst ways sometimes. Eventually we go to bed. We have sex. We go to sleep. 

 

Re-reading that it sounds like I’m complainin’. I’m not really. I know he’s trying. He’s doing this the only way he knows how. I suppose I just need him to _want_ to do these things instead of having to remember to do them. It’s like he’s making it a habit, or part of his routine. I don’t know. I’m just chalking it up to being out in space with him. As much as he’s trying, he’s still another person out here. I see glimpses here and there of the Chris I fell in love with on Earth and shore leaves. Like on Valentine’s Day when he reminded me what a sappy romantic he can be. Sometimes he has as much subtlety as a freight train. Like when he told me he made an appointment at the reproductive clinic on Risa. 

 

Yeah, we had discussed it, but I figured it would be down the road, at least back on Earth. Typical Chris, he has to go off the next day and take care of it and then sent me a ‘memo’ all business about it, telling me to mark it on my calendar. He’s scheduled it for the second day we’re on Risa. If I hadn’t been about to go into perform surgery I would have replied with exactly what I thought of his memo. I know he warned me that he’s like that, and god help me part of me likes it, but a ‘Honey, would you like me to make an appointment while we’re on Risa. I’ve heard good things about their reproductive clinic there’ would have been much nicer than getting the ‘memo’ with the attached instructions from the clinic for the procedures. 

 

I finally did get the nerve up to tell him I was planning to spend some time with Jim on Risa during shore leave. We’re going to go camping in one of the rain forests they never transformed. One of the few remaining natural areas of the planet. Jim and I have been talking about it for months. It’s only for five days and four nights. I’ll still have at least a week with Chris, plus whatever time we spend together on New Vulcan. He took it better than I thought he would. That sour look appeared on his face, but he quickly covered it up. He told me it was probably a good idea, and that Jim would need the R & R considering the high stress he’s probably under right now. So I made the arrangements this morning. Sent a copy to Jim although I still don’t know when he’ll get it. Now I just gotta put together a med pack because the damn fool will probably get bitten by every goddamn creature that inhabits the area, and he’ll be allergic to ‘em to boot. 

 

Guess I should head down to the surface. I’m gonna take some sandwiches down for Chris and I to eat for dinner. Then I made arrangements to take him back to the Andorians quarters. I have plans for that big bed tonight. Don’t know why he’s been avoiding it. I may not want a threesome in one of those beds with another partner, but damn if that bed ain’t hotter than a Georgian summer. I think it’s time to try out that dildo in my ass while I’m fucking him. 

 

**To: Richard Barnett (rbarnett@starfleet.gov)  
From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
Tuesday 2261.49**

Richard, 

I’m not on Exeter so I can’t vidcomm. I’m out working at one of the settlements and just talked to one of the Vulcan Elder’s, S’Claulan, and he tells me there is a hell of a lot of chatter going on in the Neutral Zone right now? Have you heard anything yet? If I don’t have something for Len soon -- Well, I think he’s about reached his limit. 

Please let me know the moment you hear _anything_. 

Chris 

 

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. McCoy Pike  
Tuesday 2261.49**

 

Shit. Something is going down right now with Enterprise. S’Claulan told me Vulcan Intelligence has picked up ten times the comm chatter as usual in that area and they haven’t been able to get in touch with their people on Starbase 10 since last night. This can’t be good. I talked to Richard last night and he still knew nothing. I just commed him again and hopefully he’ll have something for me. I don’t know how much more of this Len can take. I feel so selfish right now because I’m glad he’s here with me. That I don’t have to worry. But he’s worrying himself sick about Jim and Enterprise. 

 

Hopefully I can distract him tonight. I’ve set up cameras in the Andorians quarters. I was going to reserve the room myself tonight, but he beat me to it. I just hope I have good news for him when I see him in a few hours. 

 

God help me if something happens to Jim. 

 

 **Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy  
Wednesday 2261.50 **

 

Holy shit last night was hot and I ain’t just talking about the record temperatures on the planet. It’s beta shift now and I’m on my meal period in my office. I wanted to get all this down lest I forget later. All I can say is what a difference a day can make. When I got down to the planet, Chris was pushing up a wall with a few other crewman from the ship. He was shirtless and sweaty and obviously having the time of his life. He didn’t notice me for a little bit, and I sat and watched him smiling and laughing as they worked. He was so beautiful. I got a goddamn lump in my throat. 

 

When he finally saw me, he jogged over and gave me a kiss in front of everyone. I so shocked that it took me a moment to catch up and kiss him back. He’s always so reserved in front of his crew. He didn’t stop until there were a couple of wolf whistles behind us and then he pulled back, looking slightly embarrassed. He grinned at me before turning around and ordered his crew back to work in that command voice of his. I was thinking about every goddamn flesh eating disease I could remember to not get a hard on in front of everyone there. 

 

Chris went back to work until they raised the last two walls and then dismissed the crew, coming the Vulcan foreman and updating him on where they were at before he jogged back over to me. We sat and ate our sandwiches on the rocks, the sun was setting and I pulled out my flask and we shared it, passing it back and forth. 

 

I told him I made the plans for Jim and me for shore leave and told him what days we’d be gone. We’re kinda going in the middle so I’ll have time with Chris before and after. He nodded and told me that he’d gotten a comm from Richard about forty five minutes ago. And that whatever was going on with Enterprise must be coming to a close because there have been a bunch of hush-hush meetings that he wasn’t privy to. I knew I wouldn’t feel better until I heard from Jim myself, no matter what I hear from Chris or fleet. 

 

But back to last night. When we were done eatin’, we headed back to diplomatic headquarters. Chris needed to check in there and take care of a few things so I headed to our room. I went straight to the bedroom and unpacked what I’d brought. I planned on giving Chris a massage, knowing he’d been working all afternoon. I’d brought a peach flavored massage oil, a bottle of bourbon, and, of course, the dildo. I generously poured the bourbon in a couple of tumblers and set them on the nightstand. Not knowing how long he’d be, I went out and sat on a chaise on the balcony. The weather reminds me Georgia except not as humid. 

 

I must have drifted off, comfortable in the fading Vulcan sun. I woke up when I heard Chris hollerin’ for me from the living room. I found him in the little kitchen area grabbing a bottle of water. I asked him if he’d heard anything from fleet and he said no. He told me he was going to go take a shower and I nodded, walking over to the kitchen console and pulling up my own fleet mail. I don’t know why I expected to see anything if he hadn’t heard, but I just had to check. I knew Jim would comm me right away. Possibly before even fleet knew anything. There was nothing. Just like the twelve days before. 

 

My mood had shifted when I walked back into the bedroom and I knew I had to shake it off. I got undressed, pulled the covers down from the bed. I laughed when I saw that Chris had put the lube next to the dildo. I was just about to lie down when Chris walked out of the shower, a small towel barely coverin’ him and ordered me up on all fours. He told me he planned to fuck me and fill me up with his come before I took the dildo and fucked him. Jesus Mary & Joseph. He dropped the towel walking over, already half hard. Five minutes later I was at the edge of the bed and he was standing, thrusting into me from behind. He’d slipped a cock ring on me when he started, telling me I wasn’t allowed to come until I was inside him. 

 

After he came, he lubed up the dildo and slid it in halfway, not turning it on. I rolled over onto my side, looking up at him for a sign on how he wanted to do this. Not like I’d ever done this before. Of course he knew exactly what he was doing and next thing I know he’s straddling me, sitting on my hip while he lubed himself up. Every little bit, he’d push the dildo in a little further. My cock had been softening, but the sight of him on his knees, three fingers up his ass - Fuck. It wasn’t long before I was hard again. Ready, he slid down in front of me, facing me, bringing his leg up over my hip. He kissed me as he grabbed my dick and lined up. I grabbed his ass and at the same time I pulled him to me balls deep, he reached around and pushed the dildo all the way into me. I nearly blacked out. I literally saw stars. I couldn’t move for a minute, panting, buried in his ass, and stretched and full behind me. All I could say was ‘Fuck.’ 

 

He replied, ‘Yeah, fuck me, baby. How does it feel, Len? Buried in me. A cock buried in you. Do you like it, baby? Come on. Want to feel you.’ I’m not quite sure what the sound was that came out of my mouth at that point, but I found a shaky rhythm, us on our sides, kissing and breathing heavily, my hands on his ass pulling me into him, his leg thrown over me, up on one elbow, the other holding the dildo on my ass, pushing it, twisting it, while my cock slid in and out of him. There are no words to describe how it felt. It was almost too much. I felt too damn much. And when he was getting hard, and I was getting close, he turned the switch on the dildo, and then reached down and released the cock ring. A couple thrusts later and I was yelling gibberish and coming harder than I’ve ever come in my life, the dildo vibrating and hitting my prostate as I emptied into him. I did black out this time. Chris said it was for at least a couple minutes. I came to with the dildo out of my ass, lying on my back. He was half draped over me looking like the cat who’d swallowed the canary. He kissed me tenderly, brushing my sweaty hair off my forehead. He was hard again against my leg, and I reached down and wrapped my hand around him, slowly jerking him off as we kissed. It didn’t take him long before he was coming again and then he collapsed onto his back too. We were both spent. I couldn’t even move. Wrecked would be a good description. 

 

A few minutes later, he reached over and grabbed the glasses of bourbon off the nightstand and helped me sit up enough to down a couple of gulps. He drank his and offered me more and I shook my head. I didn’t think I had the strength to swallow. He laughed at me, told me he’d set up cameras in here and that he couldn’t wait to watch it later. I asked him if he was trying to kill me and he laughed again, and goddamn, it’s wonderful to hear his laugh. He ran his hand down my chest reverently. My skin was getting chilled now and I felt goosebumps. He got up, the smug bastard and went into the bathroom I assumed to clean up. He brought back a cloth and cleaned me up too and then grabbed the comforter from the floor and curled up next to me, continuing to run his hand up and down my chest. He told me we could sleep in, that he loved me, and told me to get some rest. I don't think his hand made it up and down my stomach twice before I was asleep and dead to the world. 

 

I woke up alone, the Vulcan sun streaming in the window. I could hear Chris’s voice, so I knew he wasn’t far. I sat up, and saw him standing out on the balcony. Naked. He was talking on his comm, having a pretty heated conversation with what sounded like Barnett. It was over before I could figure out what they were arguing about. I looked at the chrono and it was a little after 0730. I started to move and hell if my legs and body still weren’t jello. I sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, my ass sore and not quite sure if my legs would support me if I stood. I saw my tumbler of bourbon on the nightstand and reached over and gulped the rest down. Fueled by the burn of alcohol as it went down, I stumbled into the bathroom and into a hot shower. While it felt good on my overused muscles, they relaxed so much I could barely stand again. Jesus. 

 

I wobbled out of the shower and dried off. I could hear Chris talking on the balcony again, but I still couldn’t make it out with the glass and walls between us. When I finally made to the patio door, he was done, his arms leaning on the balcony wall, his head hung down. I was almost afraid to ask him what was wrong, because I could see the tension in his shoulders. I swung around and went to the nightstand, grabbing the massage oil I never go to use last night. 

 

“Everything alright?” I drawled as I walked out. He turned and looked me up and down walking naked towards him. He nodded and sighed. Told me he had been trying to rattle some cages in the Admiralty trying to get some news for me. But there wasn’t any. I tried not to let my disappointment show and told him to turn back around. I poured some massage oil on my hands and started rubbing his shoulders. He was so goddamn tense. I don’t know how he does it. How Jim does it. Carrying the weight of so many on his shoulders.

 

I rubbed his shoulders, his back, until every bit of tension was gone and then went down on my knees, I couldn’t help it. I rubbed the oil all over his ass then kissed and licked it until I moved my tongue to his asshole, licking him open. I was way too raw, too sore, to fuck him, so I continued with my mouth, then slicked up my fingers while I turned him around to face me. I slid two fingers into his ass while I swallowed his dick. The sounds he was making, how noisy he was out on the balcony where anyone could hear us went straight to my cock. I licked and sucked him until he came down my throat, and fuck if he didn’t look incredible with the sun shining on his face as he moaned through his orgasm. I licked him clean while he caught his breath. He then pulled me up wrapping his arms around me and kissed me. 

 

“Get me the oil.” he finally mumbled after we came up for air. I reached down and grabbed it and he poured some on his hand and wrapped it around my cock, slowly jacking me off as he leaned up against the balcony wall. I was leaning against him, our chests against each other, while he slowly, carefully brought me off. I shuddered into his hand as he kissed me, both of us panting. When I came to my senses, I looked around, not quite believing we’d just done that out where anyone could have seen us. If they had, I don’t think I would have cared. We stayed there for another few minutes, just leaning against each other, arms holding tight, kissing and savoring every moment. It’s times like that that I don’t want to leave him. Ever. 

 

We stumbled into the shower, and then got dressed. I had beta shift today, and he had a few meetings with the Vulcan Elders, and then he was working the rest of the day on the surface. We ate a quick breakfast and then he told me to sit and relax while he cleaned up the bedroom and removed the cameras he’d set up yesterday. He gave me a leering look as he said that, sending shivers down my back. He disappeared as I ate more oatmeal and sipped my coffee. 

 

His comm going off interrupted him and he came back out to pick it up off the table. He looked at the message and told me he needed to get to headquarters right away, heading towards the door. I asked him if it was about Enterprise, and he yelled back, ‘Maybe’. My heart started pounding and I ran to grab my comm seeing several notifications I hadn’t heard. I ran to the console to pull up my fleet mail. I nearly collapsed, my knees giving out, when I saw a comm from Jim sent forty-five minutes ago. The subject just said _‘I’m fine.’_ and when I opened it up he’d attached a full length photo in uniform with a PADD next to him with the newsnet up showing the date. _“See, all in one piece, too. I’ll comm you tonight. Right now I have a shit load of reports to file and the Admiralty to deal with. Missed you, asshole.”_ A sound came out of my mouth that was half a sob, half a laugh. I managed to sit down in the chair before I did fall to the floor, just staring at the picture and so goddamn relieved that I was practically frozen. A moment later I sent Chris a short comm that just said. _“Heard from Jim. He’s fine.”_ I must have sat there for another twenty minutes simply staring at the picture until I got a comm back from Chris. It just said: _“Enterprise and all aboard are fine. I’m gonna be up to my neck with the Admiralty about what’s just gone down. I may not be back for dinner. I’ll let you know. “_

 

So here I sit at the end of my meal period, still not sure what’s happened. Right now I don’t care though. Jim is safe. Enterprise is safe. Guess I should get back to work. Gotta keep my mind busy until I talk to Jim tonight. Am I terrible to hope Chris is tied up so we aren’t interrupted? I honestly don’t think I could take Chris walking in when I’m talking to him tonight and giving me _that_ look. 

 

Jesus. Why does this have to be so goddamn complicated?  



	67. Because It Was

**Title:** Because It Was - (Part 61 of To Talk of Many Things)  
 **Author:** mga1999  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating** : R  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count** : 3300  
 **Summary:** The continuing correspondence of... yeah, you know the drill.  
 **Disclaimer:** Any resemblance to anything whatsoever is purely coincidental.  
 **Authors' Notes** : Thank you to abigail89 for the beta. All remaining mistakes are mine. Just under the wire, but I did it. Fever and all. Keep that in mind when reading. ;) 

 

 **To Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)  
** From James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
Thursday 2261.51 

 

Hey Bones, 

 

Sorry I didn’t comm you. As you can see by the time I’m sending this, it’s almost 0130 and I’m just now getting a break. You’re probably still up, glaring at the console, wondering why I haven’t commed yet, but I didn’t want to wake you in case you were sleeping. Forgive me if some of this doesn’t make sense. I haven’t slept in about forty eight hours and I’m going to get about four hours sleep after this before I have more meetings with the Admiralty. 

 

I’m not sure where to start. I guess at the beginning. The day I commed you, I’d been contacted by Komack. They had managed to capture an operative of Terra Prime who was involved in the bombing on Earth. During their interrogation, they learned of a plot to coerce the Romulans to attack Starbase 10, Enterprise, or Equinox. The exact target wasn’t clear. The operative SFI caught wasn’t currently plugged in since he was laying low, so we didn’t have a lot to go by. So Enterprise went silent running, Equinox was deployed closer to Starbase 10. We waited just out of sensor range. I have to hand it to Uhura and communications for this victory. They sifted through millions of bits of data and chatter and found a pattern of how they were communicating. They had the audacity to impersonate Enterprise, Bones. That we were planning a Romulan attack. That Equinox had a new weapon that Starbase 10 had a hand in developing. So they were sending out that chatter within range of Romulan space. 

 

Whoever they are, they had a small cloaked ship. Once we figured out what was going on, we sent a shuttle to Starbase 10 to contact Starfleet command. They contacted the Romulan Senate, sent the proof we had, but they didn’t believe us. Thought it was all a grand plan so they would let their guard down. Without proof of the cloaked ship, we had nothing. Finally, two days ago between Scotty and his engineering team, and Uhura and communications, we were able to locate the approximate location of the cloaked ship. At this point, Enterprise had to come out of hiding. We had to find that ship. 

 

As soon as we entered the same sector of the ship, she tried to flee. We could just make out a distortion, and were able to fire on her. She de-cloaked from the hit, and we got a good look at her. Unfortunately, since we we hadn’t wanted to destroy her, she was able to get away. We were able to get proof of the other ship and enough data downloaded from the ship to the Romulans before they attacked Equinox, but Starbase 10 wasn’t so lucky. It wasn’t the Romulans, but Terra Prime that had an operative on the base. And when their other plan went to hell, the operative set off a bomb. She was able to cause quite a bit of damage, and fourteen lives were lost. It could have been worse, Bones. Much worse. It’s still pretty tense out here. We know there are still Romulan attack cruisers near the border. Fleet is sending Excalibur out here as our replacement. She’s due in the next day or two. They may send another ship, too. I hope so. 

 

Fuck, Bones. I’m exhausted. But if you’re still up when you get this, comm me back. It would be nice to see your grumpy face. 

 

Love, 

Jim 

 

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy  
Thursday 2261.51**

 

I just finished talking to Jim and I’m too wired to sleep. Jesus, what a mess. And I guess I know why Chris and Barnett were out of the loop now with Terra Prime involved and them so close to victims of it. Although Jim seems to think they were keeping it so tight because they suspect someone high up in the chain of command. A lot of folks have changed their tune since Narada. Jim has told me there is a lot of discord on how exploration should be handled now. Allowing new aliens into the Federation. Xenophobia has been rampant. Worse than when Earth made first contact with the Vulcans. 

 

Jim looked terrible. I know he told me he hadn’t slept in forty-eight hours, but I’m sure he hasn’t slept much at all while they’ve been under so much stress. At least I know he’ll get some rest when we’re on Risa. I’ll make sure of that. 

 

I guess I should go try to get some rest. Sleeping is pointless now as I have to be up in a little over two hours for Alpha shift. But I can lie in bed and watch Chris sleep. I only have a few more days with him on Exeter. He wasn’t happy with me when I told him I was going to wait up for Jim to comm. If you could slam doors on a spaceship, I’m sure he would have when he went into the bedroom. Maybe I can get out of the doghouse by waking him up by sucking his dick. 

 

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. McCoy Pike  
Thursday 2261.51**

 

To borrow a word that I’ve heard Jim use before, what a giant clusterfuck. Part of me is relieved that they have caught someone responsible for the bombing. The other part of me is still seething that it happened in the first place and that they went after more Federation targets. Apparently, the chatter telling us New Vulcan was in danger was all misdirection. I could say we should have known, but you can’t exactly ignore any threats terrorists might possibly be targeting. I’d like ten minutes alone in the room with this punk kid, and when I say kid, I mean it. He’s nineteen years old. He’s one of three responsible for the bombing. Or responsible for carrying it out. Apparently, one of them died in the bombing, the other one is still at large. All of them teens, manipulated and fed lies and taught hatred I’m sure by families and by whomever is currently pulling the strings for Terra Prime. 

 

SFI isn’t sure the imminent threat to New Vulcan is over. While their planetary defense system is in place now, they are still vulnerable. Construction on more ships isn’t coming along as fast as they hoped. I’ve suggested to the Admiralty that we need to send more civilian workers. There are a few ships under construction on Earth, and it’s not like Vulcan’s ever really used ships for defense, but so many of theirs were sucked into the black hole along with the planet. It truly is like starting over. Granted, they have some of the smartest minds in the universe, but when almost all of your entire race is murdered -- it’s still unbelievable. At least they are well on their way to repopulation. I’m still not sure I entirely agree. Ambassador Spock is talking about taking a third wife this summer. I can’t even make my husband happy half the time; I could not imagine trying to keep up with multiple partners. Certainly puts things in perspective for me. 

 

I was an ass to Len last night. Anyone reading this wouldn’t be surprised by that I’m sure. Despite my acting like a three year old that was told he couldn’t have something, he woke me up before duty this morning with his mouth on my cock. I didn’t deserve that, and I feel guilty that he probably did that because I made him feel bad about waiting up for Jim. I would love to say that it wasn’t about that at all, but it was to some extent. I only have a few days left with him, and he’d rather talk to Jim. I know it’s not that simple, but that’s how I feel. After our lunch I went in my ready room and had my session with Dr. Rossen. She told me that’s it unrealistic for me to expect that I’m going to stop _feeling_ like I do about his relationship, his _friendship_ with Jim. What I need to do is learn to not let it get to me, not let it make me do the idiotic things I do. To act like a caveman that he can’t be close to anyone but me. I know that’s not realistic. I _know_ that. However, when I hear him in the other room laughing -- like he never does with me -- hell, I don’t know. Dr. Rossen told me it’s okay to admit that moments like that _hurt_. But I know he doesn’t mean to. Just like I don’t mean to act the way I do. 

 

Of course, pulling him off my cock and pushing him up onto all fours and fucking him probably wasn’t the way to go about showing him I was hurt. It did at least show my consistency of being a possessive bastard. He knew exactly what I was doing. Reclaiming him after he stayed up waiting for Jim. Dr. Rossen pointed out that at least I _know_ what I’m doing now. I’m supposed to feel like that’s an accomplishment, but it just makes me see how much more of a failure I am in being able to control my apparent emotional immaturity. If I was Vulcan, I could just go through Kolinahr. If only it was that easy. She loves to remind me that love is never easy, and if it was, people would grow bored quickly. We had a good session and then I went to sickbay with my tail between my legs and took Len lunch. I sat in there with him and told him more of what was going on with the Admiralty. At least what they are telling me. I’m going to talk to Richard later and maybe I’ll get a few more answers. 

 

I have to admit looking over the initial reports on what just went down, that Jim did a hell of a job. That kid has instincts that take most captains ten years or more to learn. And he’s had to do it under such scrutiny. I told Len I was proud of Jim, and I am. I’m sure he’s feeling bad for the lives lost on Starbase 10. I tried to comm him before I started this entry, but he didn’t answer. I hope he’s sleeping. Len looked pretty worried about him at lunch even though I know he was trying to hide it. That’s another part of this I hate. I don’t want him to have to hide it. I want him to be able to _talk_ to me when he’s worried about Jim. I feel like I fail him in that respect. But I know I’m not ready for that yet. I can only hope that someday I’ll get there. 

 

Now, I have a shitload of reports to read. Wrapping up a mission and the reports that have to be filed are daunting. Hopefully I’ll get more answers when I talk to Richard. I’m going to do Len a favor and stay out of his way tonight. I told him I’d be late and not to wait up. I know he wants to talk to Jim more, and I don’t want to ruin that for him. It’s time for me to stop being selfish. 

 

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy  
Monday 2261.55**

 

Exeter left today. I’m down on New Vulcan staying with Ambassador Spock. Who’d’a thought I’d ever be willingly staying with _any_ Spock? I could have stayed in a room like Chris and I had, but I have nothing to do for two days until Jim and the Enterprise crew arrive. Or, hopefully, Jim will arrive. They asked him to stay on Earth a day, wanted him to make the press rounds after what happened. The kid is exhausted and running on his sheer stubbornness and more stims than he should be allowed to take and they want to parade him around. Goddamn vultures. They promised to have him here without delay in his original plans, so they must be sending him out on a big ship. 

 

Chris is due back on Thursday. The last four days we spent together were - well, tense. I know he was trying to give me time to talk to Jim at night whenever I needed to, but it was almost too much. How can I complain about it though when he’s clearly _trying_. The only problem is he can’t seem to find a balance, or maybe it’s both of us, I don’t know. I was probably being selfish talking to Jim each night, but the kid needed it. Hell, I needed it. Doesn’t mean I don’t need Chris either, and I don’t know how to get him to understand that. Maybe we’ll be able to talk about it on Risa. 

 

We did talk to his mother before he left. She’s knee-deep in the muck of planning our wedding. At this point I don’t think Chris and I really need to do anything except show up at the ceremony. She did ask about the menu and she was so sweet askin’ if there were any particular southern dishes I wanted on the menu. I don’t quite think anything my mama made would be appropriate, but I thanked her just the same. I deferred to my husband on this issue and it’s going to be a selection of fresh fish, and delicacies from different planets. I can’t pronounce half the dishes they were talking about and I sure as hell don’t know what they were. I’m a meat and potatoes boy, but I do like the fish Chris has cooked for me, so I ain’t complainin’. 

 

I’ve spent today with T’Lordia. Gosh, she just gets sweeter every time I see her. Jim called when I was on the floor with her playing with blocks. She’s not quite able to sit up by herself yet, but give her a few weeks and I’m sure she’ll have it down. Didn’t stop her from rolling to grab the colorful cubes, and Jim was laughing at me as I built little towers and she would knock them down. She would laugh and laugh and Jim told me he’d get some for my quarters since he didn’t know I liked them so much. Asshole. It was good to hear Jim laugh. The smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, though. He’s troubled about something and I can’t wait to get him out in the middle of nowhere alone so he’ll talk to me. 

 

Tomorrow I’m going to spend some time in the Medical Sciences building to finalize the treatment for Uhura during her pregnancy. Poor thing has been enduring so many hormone shots and treatments she’ll need to sustain the pregnancy. She’s a tough one, Nyota. I’m not sure why she’s trying to add the pressure to herself right now to have this formal bonding ceremony. I guess she’s a bit old fashioned like me. Not that she and Spock haven’t already formed their bond, but this makes it official to the Elders of Vulcan. I’m sure it’s important to the hobgoblin’s standing in his ‘house’ or whatever the goddamn Vulcan hierarchy is. Hard to believe that by the time we start on our next mission, with any luck, she’ll be pregnant. Nine to ten months later there will be another baby on the Enterprise. That will make four. Still not sure I like that, but I don’t like kids separated from their folks either. Goddammit, it’s just not safe. 

 

Well, I best be getting to bed. Chris is supposed to comm me and told me to be naked and in bed. Where the hell else would he expect me to be? Spock’s kitchen, for god’s sake? Sometimes I don’t know what that man is thinking. Considering the mood he was in the last few days, that’s probably a good thing. 

 

**To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
** From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)  
Wednesday 2261.57 

 

Dear Chris, 

 

Greetings from New Vulcan! I arrived this morning and haven’t stopped since. Which kind of surprises me actually. I figured Bones would hypo me into a coma the minute our ship landed. But he’s been showing me around, and man, has it changed since the last time I was here. It’s amazing how much they have built. I have to hand it to them, I’m not sure that if the same had happened to Earth, if we’d have been as successful. 

 

I’m staying at Ambassador Spock’s house. It’s good to see him again, and boy does he have some hot wives. I guess they’d have to be young to get knocked up, but he’s like eight hundred years old! Or is that Yoda from those Star Wars movies? Either way, he’s ancient, but he sure has some cute kids. Never thought I’d want one but seeing Bones lying down on the floor with T’Lordia and her brother T’Janikrel, well, maybe someday it won’t be too bad. I’m sorta honored. I didn’t know that Ambassador Spock named his son after me, but I guess it’s ‘Jim’ in Vulcan. They call him Krel for short, and he’s unlike any one year old I’ve ever been around. Not that there have been many, but he’s so calm. I wonder if Vulcan kids even throw tantrums. That part might be nice when having a kid. It’s kind of amusing to think about our Spock as a kid. I visited Sarek today and he had a few holos around. I might have downloaded one or twelve to my comm to use for future; erm, well, it’s always good to have something to get myself out of hot water with him. Not that that happens much anymore, but it might come in handy next time I want to distract him during a chess game I may not be doing so well with. 

 

I guess I’m rambling, and I’m sorry, sir. I don’t quite know what to say right now. I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow. I hope you won’t be delayed like you told Bones this morning. Is everything okay with you two? I asked Bones and he changed the subject. I hope it’s not something I did. I know I took up a lot of his time at night the last week talking to him, so if that’s why, I’m sorry. With everything that happened, I just... Well, I’m not gonna lie, I needed him. Maybe that makes me weak, and a little embarrassed to admit, but I do.

 

You asked me when we talked briefly if I’d heard from my mother, and the answer is no. Not that I expected to. Why should she? And no, I haven’t tried to contact her either. She’s the one that stopped answering my comms all those years ago. I’ve told you that, and I’m not certainly going to waste my breath trying anymore. 

 

Anyway, thanks for your support again. If you need me to give up my time on Risa with Bones to mend whatever is going on with you two, just say the word. I’m probably going to be in meetings most of the time anyway. So much for shore leave, but I’m sure you know how that goes. A captain is really never on leave, is he? 

 

Take care, old man. See you soon. 

 

Love, 

Jim  



	68. If Seven Maids With Seven Mops

**Title:** If Seven Maids With Seven Mops - (Part 62 of To Talk of Many Things)  
 **Author:** **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating** : PG-13  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count** : 3650  
 **Summary:** The continuing correspondence of... yeah, you know the drill.  
 **Disclaimer:** Any resemblance to anything whatsoever is purely coincidental.  
 **Authors' Notes** : In light of what happened in _Star Trek Into Darkness_ , I am hoping this fic will be a balm to tattered souls. While the going isn’t gonna be perfect for our boys for a bit, I promise a happier ending. Work takes up 60 hours a week of my life, but I promise to keep at it. Thank you to for the beta and to for the cheerleading.  
  
  
 **Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy  
Saturday 2261.59 **

Nyota and Spock were bonded yesterday at sunset overlooking a cliff on New Vulcan. She looked beautiful. She was wearing a rose colored dress that wrapped around her, with some kind of train that blew in the wind. I’m a doctor not a fashion designer so don’t ask me what the hell you call it. Spock was wearing Vulcan robes. It was a pretty traditional ceremony which surprised me, I reckon mostly for our behalf. After, they went off to the Vulcan High Priestess or whoever the hell she is, for whatever the goddamn Vulcan ritual is. With Spock’s induced PonFarr - Damn, I don’t want to think about _that_ right now. Anyway, with any luck, she’ll be pregnant when we set foot back on Enterprise. 

It was good to see everyone. Scotty, Keenser, Sulu, Chekov. Chris didn’t make it. I wasn’t surprised, but I’m still disappointed. Jim was too, and the poor kid thinks his being there is why Chris didn’t show. I told Jim it wasn’t true, but hell, I don’t even know anymore. 

We’re on a ship on our way to Risa right now. Scotty is sleeping off his hangover. Since the bride and groom were indisposed, he threw a party for us. Don’t know where he got all the liquor, but I’ve learned with him it’s better not to ask. It was nice to see Jim smile and let loose if only for a short time. Keenser is hard at work on a PADD. Jim is unusually quiet. He didn’t drink very much, so I know he’s not hungover. I begged him to let me give him a sedative so he could rest, but he’s been writing letters. It’s not even his job, they weren’t even his crew, but he’s been sending them to the family of people lost on Starbase 10. He knew a couple of them; they were in our Academy class. He’s pretty upset even though it wasn’t his fault. Of course the idiot thinks it is. That he should have been able to do something to prevent it. That it was Enterprise’s job to protect the base. Jim is gonna have a dozen ulcers before he’s thirty and an MI or two if I can’t figure out a way to reign the damn kid in. 

There hasn’t been any news on what’s going on with Terra Prime. One of the losses on Starbase 10 was their operative who set off the bomb. Practically another kid. She had just turned twenty, three days before. Goddammit. She’d been in Starfleet since she was sixteen. They don’t know if she’d been an operative from the beginning or if she was recruited recently after Nero like so many others. Either way, what a goddamn waste. 

Enterprise’s leave has been extended. We aren’t sure how long yet. Could be few days, could be a month. They need Jim back on Earth after our promised shore leave for meetings and I’m sure more parading around. As it is, he’s got a few meetings scheduled and press functions while we’re here on Risa. Damn vultures. It’s like they are going to pick at him until there is nothing left. 

Jim ‘n I are still taking our time away. Kid’s gonna be in meetings right up until we leave and then good luck to them trying to find us. I’ve made sure Jim is going to get the goddamn peace and quiet he needs. Exeter is still leaving on time and they are sending her back to New Vulcan. They found intel and maps of New Vulcan on the PADD of operative that blew up Starbase 10. Starfleet is currently re-vetting everyone on New Vulcan and apparently Exeter, too. I’m sure Chris is thrilled with that. 

Dammit, Jim is practically nodding off as he tries to write. We’re about four hours from Risa. I’m gonna go sedate him whether the damn fool likes it or not. 

 

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy  
Saturday 2261.59 Addendum Risa**

Goddamn kid is exhausted. I could barely rouse him when we landed on Risa. Had to practically carry him off. Reminded me of when I smuggled him onto Enterprise. I finally have him settled in bed and am going to go check on him once more and then go see Chris. 

 

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy  
Sunday 2261.60**

Goddammit. Jim is sick. Not sure what’s wrong with him yet. I should have known there was more to it when he could barely walk getting off the shuttle last night. I thought it was just all the stress and lack of sleep from the last couple of weeks catching up with the kid, but goddammit, I should have checked him over more. 

He was sleeping soundly this morning when I left. Yes, I said this morning. When I went in to check on him last night, I walked in just as he shot up and started vomiting. Poor kid didn’t make it over the side of the bed like he was trying to. I got him into the bathroom but by then there was nothing left. He was just dry heaving. I grabbed my med kit from my bag and gave him an anti-emetic shot, not particularly liking the readings on the tricorder. He was exhausted mostly. His body chemistry all out of sorts. I got him to drink a little water and then when I was sure he was steady enough, got him in the shower to clean up. I called housekeeping and they came and cleaned up what made it on the and changed the bed. Jim was practically sleepwalking when he came out of the shower. I got him in sleep pants and back into bed. I didn’t need to sedate him since the anti-emetic was doing the same job. 

I went out to put my med kit away. I started to comm Chris, but I didn’t think I’d be much longer. I didn’t want to see the look on his face when I told him I was still with Jim. I prepared another hypospray of the anti-emetic to leave on Jim’s nightstand in case he woke up sick again. When I walked back into the room, he was sound asleep, sprawled out in the middle of the huge bed. He was snoring lightly and I couldn’t help but smile. I sat down for a minute, watching him, still beyond relieved he was back and in once piece. I reckon I was more tired than I thought, because the next thing I know it’s morning, and I’m waking up next to Jim in bed. He was still sleeping, but seemed restless and a little warm. I shook his shoulder, wanting to wake him. I was about to get up and go get my tricorder and check him over, but he rolled over towards me and said, “Five more minutes, Bones.” I laughed. He said that to me so many times back at the Academy. So I let him be, figuring sleep was the best thing for him. I ruffled his hair and told him to comm me when he was up and there was a hypospray on the nightstand if he needed it. He grunted in acknowledgement and I took a quick sonic shower before beaming over to Chris. 

Chris had tried to comm me for hours last night and I felt pretty guilty. I’d left my comm in my bag and never heard it. I palmed into the door and there was a strange odor when I walked into the bungalow he rented. I noticed the lights were still on and then I saw Chris sprawled out on the couch snoring away. Walking further in, I could see the table turned over in the kitchen. It scared me at first, thinking Chris had fallen or something had happened. When I got to the kitchen, my heart dropped. Not only had he knocked over the table, a chair was broken, dishes were shattered, and food was all over the floor and even the walls which explained the strange odor. I’m not even sure what words came out of my mouth looking at the mess everywhere. I couldn’t believe he did something like that. 

He was awake when I walked back into the living room. I’m sure I woke him up with my swearin’ in the kitchen. I tried to take a deep breath and calm down, but the first words out of my mouth were “Didja have a good time last night?” I was so angry and disappointed. I shook my head and sighed. I didn’t want to fight with him. I apologized for not coming home. I told him what happened with Jim. I saw some sympathy splash across his face at first, but then when I told him that I was sittin’, checkin’ on Jim and the next thing I knew I woke up, he spat ‘So you slept in the bed with Jim?’. I felt like I’d been slapped. Even though I could tell he regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, I had to get out of there. I grabbed my bag and walked out. I called to be beamed back to Jim’s hotel and didn’t look back even when I heard him calling after me. 

I needed to calm down before I went back in to Jim’s room, so I walked around the hotel grounds for about twenty minutes. When I got back to Jim’s, I put my bag down and went into the bedroom. He was still sprawled out, but there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead that wasn’t there when I left not forty-five minutes earlier. I walked over to rouse him and I couldn’t wake him up. I felt his forehead and he was too damn warm. I tried waking him again and when I couldn’t I ran out to the front comm panel and called for medical assistance. I grabbed my tricorder on the way back in. My initial scan showed nothing but the same chemical imbalance, slight dehydration, and the added fever. No reason he should be unconscious. 

The med team arrived quickly and I filled them in. We got him on a gurney quickly and into the transport. I was relieved that when we arrived at the medical facilities on Risa they seemed to be state of the art. I had commed Scotty when we got in the transport. After a quick assessment, blood draw and consult with the attending doctor, we were quickly sent upstairs to a room where more tests could be run, and more privacy could be maintained. Sometimes I forget he’s a celebrity and the vultures were already arriving outside. Scotty arrived just as we were leaving and I handed him my bag and our comms. I told him I didn’t want to talk to or see Chris. He’d been calling my comm since I left. 

It’s been seven hours since I brought Jim here and we still don’t know exactly what’s wrong. It might be some kind of poison. We found an unknown element in his bloodwork, but there were only minute traces of it left in his system. So he either didn’t imbibe much, or it’s been in his system a long time. The latter doesn’t make sense for him to suddenly get so sick. SFI has been here and is now investigating. They took a sample and sent it back to Starfleet and are interviewing everyone. They were searching the transport we came on when they last checked in with me to see how Jim was. 

He should be okay. But until the damn idiot wakes up, I’m going crazy with worry. I need him to wake up. Goddammit. 

 

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. McCoy Pike  
Monday 2261.61**

My husband and I were supposed to make a baby this morning at the reproductive clinic. Instead, he was sitting at Jim’s bedside and I’m sitting on our couch in our bungalow, my only company a myriad of thoughts and feelings I wish I could ignore. I feel like I should be there with Len, but he’s made it clear he doesn’t want me there. I tried to visit last night and he told me under no certain terms was he in any condition to deal with my bullshit right now and to just leave. As much as I probably deserved it, it still hurt. And then to see him walk back in and pick up Jim’s hand -- Fuck. It shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t bother me. But it does and I haven’t a clue what I’m supposed to do. 

Nothing has gone right since he arrived here. The ship with Scotty, Keenser, Jim, and Len arrived from New Vulcan late Saturday night. I met the ship at the shuttleport, arriving just in time to see Len walk off with a clearly exhausted and barely awake Jim Kirk, his arm wrapped around my husband’s shoulder. Len was clearly supporting most of his weight and for a moment I wondered if he was just drunk. But as they got closer, I could see the dark circles under his eyes, and damn, my heart ached for that poor kid. 

Scotty came up and took his other arm as they walked over. Len did let Scotty hold Jim’s weight for a moment while he gave me a hug and kiss hello. He told me he was going to go get Jim settled and sedated for the night and I was all his. I have to admit, that made me feel better. I wasn’t sure how angry he was at me for not making it to New Vulcan. I honestly was tied up in meetings, but the truth is, I wanted to give him some time with Jim after everything that had just happened. I was trying to be unselfish. It wasn’t easy. Believe me. 

I gave Len the information on where we were staying and told him I’d arrange to have him beam over when he was ready. I wasn’t kidding him when I told him I’d picked somewhere remote and private. I asked him if he’d eaten and he shook his head. I told him I’d have dinner waiting. He gave me another kiss and headed off with Scotty and Jim. 

Four hours later I was sitting at a table alone with candles burnt down in our bungalow. I’d tried comming Len several times to no avail. At first I was worried, giving him the benefit of the doubt. As time passed I got angrier and angrier. I finally called in a favor and had him tracked down using his communicator. He was with Jim. Or in a room registered to Jim Kirk. I was furious. I started throwing things. I knocked our table over. I don’t even remember most of it. I had half a mind to beam over there and pound on the door and -- fuck. I realized at that point I wanted to go pull him out of there and bring him back to our room where he belonged proving my neanderthal ways. Once I realized that, the anger turned to hurt. I sat on the floor in the mess and cried. 

I figured I deserved it. I did pretty much ignore Len when he was on New Vulcan and never really told him I wasn’t coming. I finally got up and went and commed Philip. He took one look at my face and asked me what happened. We talked for over an hour until I saw Philip yawning and then I felt guilty for keeping him up so late. It was past 0200 and I was exhausted. I thanked him for the talk and I got up and only made it to the couch, falling face first and falling asleep as soon as my arms curled around one of the cushions. 

I woke up to swearing coming from the kitchen. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes in time to look at my husband walking into the living room his hands on his hips. “Didja have a good time?” The anger and disappointment in his eyes rendered me speechless. He finally shook his head and sighed. He told me he was sorry that he didn’t make it back last night. That he and Scotty got Jim to the room. Scotty took off with Keenser to hit the bars. He got Jim in bed and was just about to sedate him again when Jim rolled over and started throwing up. All the stress of the last couple of weeks and the fatigue had finally caught up with him. He said it took an hour to get Jim cleaned up and housekeeping to clean and remake the bed. By the time he’d got Jim tucked in bed again he was exhausted. He said he sat down on the bed a minute, watching Jim sleep peacefully and the next thing he knew he woke up a half hour ago. 

Being the brilliant man I am the first thing out of my mouth was ‘So you slept in the bed with Jim?’ I knew the moment the words left my mouth -- fuck. The look on his face. The worst part, was he didn’t say a word to me. Just picked up his bag and walked out. I was so stunned that I stood there a couple minutes too long. When I finally came to my senses, I opened our door just in time to see him beaming away. 

My first thought was to go after him. My second was to comm Jim. I chose the latter, but Jim didn’t answer. I stood there cursing up a storm, not entirely sure what to do. I saw the mess in the kitchen out of the corner of my eye and when I walked over to look -- It was much worse than I imagined. No wonder Len was so upset. Resigned, I spent the next hour cleaning and trying to figure out how I was going to get myself out of this mess. 

When I was done, I discreetly contacted the manager of the resort to take care of the damage I caused. I paid a pretty penny to keep it quiet. All I needed was the newsnets getting wind of what I’d done. I commed Jim again. Instead of getting him, I got Scotty. Scotty who was very obviously in a medical facility waiting room. He quickly explained that Len had brought Jim there about fifteen minutes ago. He didn’t know what was going on. He’d gotten a call from Len and hurried over and just as he was arriving, Len had tossed Scotty their stuff as Jim was rushed upstairs for tests with Len alongside. I told him I’d be right there, but he told me he didn’t think that was a very good idea in his Scottish brogue. I was too stunned to argue with him and asked him to please comm me when he heard anything. 

I’d had the news on and they were speculating everything from a suicide attempt to a fight with me. I had to laugh at that, because I’d only had a fight with myself. Scotty finally commed me a couple hours later that they really didn’t know anything. Jim was stable, but still unconscious. I asked him about the newsnet rumors and he laughed. He then told me SFI was involved and I knew it was nothing good. I then commed Richard to find out more information since Scotty was blatantly vague. I found out who at SFI had been assigned to the case. I kept myself busy calling in favors and digging for information not really getting any. Philip called me from my Godson’s room after seeing the news and I told him what I knew. Which was pretty much nothing. He told me Jim’s medical file was locked and he couldn’t see it. The bright spot was being able to talk to Txanton briefly. After that I had to go to scheduled meetings with the Admiralty about Terra Prime for several hours, but I honestly felt like I was in a vacuum the entire time. 

Jim woke up late Sunday afternoon. Despite what everyone thinks, I was relieved. Scotty commed a few minutes before I started writing this that they were about release Jim to Len’s care later this morning. I still don’t know what happened to Jim. I still haven’t heard from my husband. I did send him a quick message that I was glad Jim had woken up. To let me know if they needed anything. I have to admit I cringed typing that out. On one hand, I know I was sincere and trying. On the other, what they both really need is for me to quit being an asshole. 

I’m not sure that’s possible anymore. 

So instead of making babies today, planning for our future together, I’m sitting here wondering if we still have one. 

 

**To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)  
** **From: Richard Barnett (rbarnett@starfleet.gov)  
** **Priority One  
** **Monday 2261.61**

Dear Chris, 

I know it’s late, but I have some news. SFI & Excalibur have captured the ship that was responsible for the incidents in the Neutral Zone. They have taken everyone into custody. Twenty-two members were aboard the ship. Amongst them, they have apparently caught the current leader of the movement. This is a huge development in our fight against Terra Prime. I am currently waiting for Jim Kirk to comm me back, and I hope he does before this hits the newsnets. 

Chris, the suspect in custody, their leader, is Sam Kirk. 

Comm me. 

Richard


	69. They Thanked Him Much for That

**Title:** They Thanked Him Much for That - (Part 63 of To Talk of Many Things)  
 **Author:** **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating** : PG-13  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Word Count** : 3700  
 **Summary:** The continuing correspondence of... yeah, you know the drill.  
 **Disclaimer:** Any resemblance to anything whatsoever is purely coincidental.  
 **Authors' Notes** : Glad there are still a few of you around. Hopefully will be able to manage updates every other week at least. Thank you to **abigail89** & **weepingnaiad** for the beta. 

 

**To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)**  
 **From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)**  
 **Tuesday 2261.62**

Chris,

I tried to comm you, but you are either in meetings or ignoring me. I guess it’s better this way.

I’m taking Jim to Georgia where I can keep an eye on him while he recuperates, and hopefully, keep the goddamn vultures away. Scotty has arranged transport and with any luck we’ll get out of here without anyone noticin’. Let the bastards, Starfleet included, look all over Risa for him. Other than Scotty, you and Barnett are the only ones who know where we’re going. Not sure how we’re getting home undetected once we get to Earth, but Scotty and Barnett told me they’d take care of it and I trust Scotty.

I’m sorry if this hurts you, darlin’. I’m sorry things have gone to hell in a handbasket. But right now I have to be there for Jim.

I love you, Chris. As angry as I am right now, I still do. But I can’t keep on like this. I can’t keep being pulled in two directions, especially when the only pullin’ is being done by you.

Len

 

**Personal Journal of Christopher R. McCoy Pike**  
 **Tuesday 2261.62**

By now, my husband and Jim should have arrived safely in Georgia. Exeter’s shore leave has been cut short, and we’ll be heading back to New Vulcan in two days. Not exactly the shore leave I’d envisioned. Nor the ending of the time with my husband. It’s not entirely my fault, but it should not have ended like it did, and _that_ is my fault.

There has been too much going on the last few days for me to think about it. That’s probably a good thing, although Philip lectured me earlier that I can’t just ignore it and hope it all works out. I’m not ignoring it. I know Len is angry at me. I know I deserve that anger. But I’m angry myself and whether I’m allowed to have that or not -- I don’t know.

I got to sit in on a debriefing this morning via vidcomm with the Admiralty and then a private chat with Richard after. While I haven’t spoken with Len or Jim, I suppose I’m relieved that they’ve allowed Richard to read me in on everything. Now, where to start.

Of the Terra Prime members captured, seven were former Starfleet. Some as recent as a month ago. One was a previous Captain who’d been in service fifteen years before Nero. Sam Kirk apparently joined up shortly after her ran away from home and has been climbing the ranks since. They have Winona in custody. Apparently for both protection and investigation. Unlike Jim, she and Sam have been in fairly regular contact over the years. The could not find any record of communication between Jim and Sam since -- well, since after Jim returned from Tarsus. Sam commed him a few times. Jim returned them, and then Sam stopped. That’s it. I didn’t know that Jim hadn’t had any contact with his brother for so long. It certainly explains why Len filled that older ‘brother’ type role with Jim so easily.

They did talk to Jim before he left. He’s completely in the clear. Especially in light of the fact that they suspect the person responsible for trying to kill him was his brother. I can’t even begin to imagine what that would be like. It was a poison. Some kind of chemical Terra Prime created. It was slipped into an innocuous water bottle at Jim’s hotel by a member of Terra Prime. Thank God Jim had been so tired that he’d only taken a couple of sips. They found the water bottle rolled under the bed. If Jim or Len had grabbed it and he’d had more after he vomited -- God.

Richard said that he’s talked to Jim. He looked pale and sick, but otherwise seemed himself. But I know that Jim would never let anyone, especially Richard see that he’s not. It’s going to take about a week or so for the poison to completely break down and leave his system. They don’t know enough about it to try to counteract it. They were afraid whatever they tried could make Jim worse.

The ship they seized was completely void of any data or PADDS. They only thing they got from the ship was its log of where’s it’s been the last year since they boarded it. No one had a PADD or COMM. If they did, they airlocked them or incinerated them before they were caught. But SFI found no evidence of the latter.

Starfleet, of course, wanted to drag Jim to HQ and no doubt continue the plans they had for him. But the PADD of the agent at Starbase 10 contained two other back up plans to kill Jim on Risa if the water bottle failed. Richard used that intel and his influence with SFI to get the okay for Len to take Jim and hide him. They don’t feel he’s safe on Enterprise either since evidence shows there may be Terra Prime members on board. What a mess. SFI certainly has their hands full with this. I’m nervously waiting for them to finish with Exeter, but so far they haven’t found anything and since they are shipping us out in two days -- well, I’m hoping that’s a good sign.

I don’t exactly trust myself to be impartial, but I’m not sure if taking Jim to Georgia is the best idea. I know the security I set up there is top notch, but not for something like this. SFI and Starfleet are apparently going to make it seem like Len & Jim are still on Risa, and then later at HQ. I don’t like this. I know my husband can take care of himself, and as much as it hurts me to admit, I certainly wouldn’t want to be the person trying to hurt Jim -- I suspect my husband could kill someone 800 ways without leaving a trace and I have no doubt he would.

 

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**  
 **Wednesday 2261.63**

Oh hell, I don’t even know where to start. Not sure I even want to.

I’m home. In Georgia. With Jim.

He’s better physically than when I brought him here. Still weak and not able to eat much. Mentally, it’s another story - I don’t know what to do for him. I want to do what I do best which is fix things, but this. Goddammit. He even told me that I couldn’t fix it, but that just being here with him helps. Just doesn’t seem like enough. He hasn’t talked ‘bout things yet. I’m not pushin’. He slept a lot the first twenty-four hours. Tried to get him to eat some broth last night, but he wasn’t havin’ it. The damn kid turned green when I handed him a water bottle to get him to at least drink somethin’. I finally poured it into a glass and got him to drink at least half.

It’s a beautiful March mornin’. A little chilly, but the sun is out. I’m sittin’ on the porch and Jim is lying in the hammock wrapped in a blanket. I wanted to get him outside. He’s been in the house since we arrived. Normally, he’d be itchin’ to get outside, to not be cooped up. ‘Cept nothin’ is normal right now. I’m hopin’ it will warm up enough later to take him down to the stream. I need to see if I can get him to talk. But how I’m supposed to go about that, hell I don’t know. “So Jim, you’re brother is trying to kill you and is the head of one of the biggest terrorist groups of our time. How ya doin’ with that, kid?” Right.

I haven’t talked to Chris. Right now I don’t want to. He knows we’re here. I’m sure he’s not happy about it. I’ll even admit I’m being selfish right now, but dammit, this is Jim. I love my husband, God knows I do, but I - Goddammit. I am so angry that I’m having to worry about my marriage right now instead of trying to help Jim. So I’m not. Chris needs to work this out for himself. For however long we end up stuck here while they are investigating, I’m here for Jim. Whatever he needs from me to get through this. If Chris honestly thought I would ever walk away from Jim after everything we’ve been through these last six years, well, he can shove it where the sun don’t shine.

 

**To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)**  
 **From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)**  
 **Friday 2261.65**

Dear Chris,

I’m not sure what to say. I know something is going on with you and Bones, but he won’t talk about it. He keeps telling me not to worry about it... But that only makes me worry more. I know he’s trying to put on a brave face for me, but he’s hurting, Chris. I’m not going to apologize if it’s my fault for the problems you guys are having. I’m done with that.

I’m not going to lie and say I’m fine either. Bones is taking good care of me. Mother-henning me to death, but that’s our Bones. I’m still eating mostly broth, but Bones has made some pretty good fruit smoothie drinks that help. He says it should only be a few more days before the poison is out of my system, but that’s only an estimate since they still don’t know exactly what it is. Toss in my wacky immune system and... yeah.

I know I should have something to say about Sam, but I don’t really. I’m angry. But Sam hasn’t been part of my life since before... Well, you know what. I’m not counting the few times he commed me when I came back and was in the hospital. It was just to assuage his guilt and maybe if I’d been listening more closely to him, I would have realized he was already involved with Terra Prime. He kept asking if I’d had enough of Starfleet, but I didn’t understand what he meant at the time. Shit. I know I was only fourteen, but thinking back, I wonder if he was trying to recruit me.

He hasn’t been my brother since I was thirteen, Chris. I’ve spent more than half my life without him, and we weren’t exactly that close the last couple of years before he ran away anyway. I totally get why he’s so angry at Starfleet, and when Bones and I talked about it last night, I can see how easy it would be to be influenced like he was. Still, I will never fathom how someone, shit. How can he be so angry that he would kill innocent people? It makes me sick. Like I never knew him at all. Maybe I didn’t.

I don’t know what to think about my mother being in custody. Not like I’ve had any contact with her either. Despite our relationship, or non-relationship, I don’t think she’s involved. She and Sam were always close, and Sam always felt like he had to take care of her... Well, at least when she was home. Not like that was often. He always used to be so angry at her being up in space though. I told Bones it didn’t make sense that he stayed in contact with her. I don’t know. I’m tired of thinking about it. All of it.

Starfleet has left me alone so far. I think Bones talked to Scotty yesterday, but mostly for getting supplies beamed down. I’m surprised they’ve left me alone, but I think they are scared of Bones at the moment. You should have heard him yelling at the Admirals when I was in the hospital. We’re lucky to have him, Chris. I know you know that, but right now with whatever is going on with you two, I feel like I need to remind you.

I want to get back to work, Chris. Not that I don’t love being here with Bones. I just want to be back on Enterprise, warping across space. I don’t want to worry about my brother & Terra Prime trying to kill me. Or Starfleet parading me around for whatever their current agenda is. And I don’t want Bones to be afraid to let me out of his sight. Not that it’s much different on the ship, but he’s scared, Chris. He’s scared for me, and whether he admits it or not, he’s scared of losing you.

So help a marked man out. Comm your husband, Chris. I promise I’ll make him answer. God knows, someone needs to help you two quit acting like idiots.

Love,  
Jim

 

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**  
 **Sunday 2261.67**

I talked to Chris yesterday. Jim tricked me and as angry as I am at him for doing so, I’m also pretty damn grateful. Just seeing Chris on the screen - damn, I needed to see him. Hear his voice. It wasn’t the most comfortable vidcomm we’ve ever had. We both stumbled over words, the both of us afraid to say the wrong thing. I can’t believe we’re back there again. I feel like we’re going in goddamn circles.

I’m not sure what happens next. That’s kinda scary considerin’ his folks are planning our ‘wedding’ that is now only six months away. Christ. I won’t even see him until then. If things were different, I’d be thinkin’ that it’s gonna be one hell of a honeymoon. I told him I wanted him to just leave me be for now. He seemed to understand, or at least he’s trying.

Being here, being home with Jim is good, though. Jim and I are working through a lot of stuff. He’s been openin’ up to me about Sam, and even his mother. I tried to broach Tarsus again, but he got so pale and then started to turn green, and since he’s still having trouble eating, I let it go. I told him we _were_ going to talk about it before we leave here. I want to take a hale and whole Jim Kirk back to Enterprise. Maybe that’s selfish of me, but I have a feeling I’m gonna need him more than he needs me in the next few months.

We started painting one of the small outbuildings yesterday old fashioned way with brushes. Just a small one used for storage. There might have been a paint fight. Lord, it was good to see Jim laugh. Really laugh. It’s been too long. For both of us, probably. Towards the end, we were laughing so hard there were tears. But then I realized Jim _was_ crying. Goddamit, I watched him crumble right in front of me. One minute he was bent over laughing, the next he was falling to the ground on his hands and knees, his head hung down, gut wrenching sobs shaking him.

I dropped to the ground next to him and pulled him into my arms. He resisted at first, I could tell he was embarrassed, but finally he relaxed and let me hold him. I’m not sure how long we sat there on the ground. I don’t even remember all the gibberish I tried to comfort him with. I felt so helpless. I wanted to murder every bastard who’d done him harm, hippocratic oath be damned. When he finally stopped shaking, I figured it would be best if I got him back to the house. As calmly as I could I asked him if he was able to walk. He only nodded, staring off into nothing. I helped him up and we stumbled back to the house, me half carrying him up the stairs. I got him to the bathroom so he could clean up. I was nervous to leave him. He was as unsteady as a newborn calf, but I knew what he needed. He needed to be alone, and as much as it killed me to shut the door and walk out of there, I did it.

I stood at the door until I heard the water turn on and then I went downstairs and back outside to clean up. We were mostly done except for the trim. I didn’t realize how upset I was until I picked up a paintbrush and noticed my hand was shaking. I gave myself a moment, took a few deep breaths and finished cleaning up.

When I got back inside, I heard the water upstairs turn off. I went to the kitchen and poured myself a couple of fingers of bourbon, needing the liquid courage to go back up to Jim. I checked the console for messages finding none, grabbed Jim a glass of water and headed back upstairs. When I got to the room, he was already in bed, curled up on his side facing the wall. I walked over and sat down on the edge. I knew he wasn’t asleep yet. I told him I had water I was putting on the nightstand and then I squeezed his shoulder. I asked him if he needed anything to help him sleep and he shook his head. He scooted over a little, a wordless invitation of what he needed. I moved up and sat with my back against the headboard, putting my hand back on his shoulder.

I couldn’t help but wonder if the kid ever had anyone sit with him when he was sick or scared when he was younger. I doubt it, and that breaks my damn heart. Especially thinking about when he came home from Tarsus. According to Starfleet records, his mom came home for two weeks. He was in the hospital four. How could anyone, let alone someone’s mother, leave a child that soon after something like that? I’m starting to wish Winona Kirk really was involved in Terra Prime so they could lock her up and throw away the damn key. Unbelievable.

I stayed with him until he was asleep. He slept all night, but I didn’t sleep much when I went back to my room. When I finally got up around 0900, he wasn’t in his room. I panicked a minute until I saw he’d left a note on the PADD in the kitchen. I got dressed and wandered outside, finding him painting the trim on the storage shed. He smiled at me, that sunny smile of his and I could tell it wasn’t fake this time. He handed me a paintbrush and we went back to painting. Halfway done, he paused a moment and said, “Thank you, Bones. For everything.” I looked over at him, knowing everything those simple words conveyed and replied with my own. “You’re welcome. Anytime, kid.”

 

**To: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)**  
 **From: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)**  
 **Tuesday 2261.69**

Dear Jim,

I’m sorry, son. About everything. Thank you for helping me talk to Len. Even if we didn’t resolve anything, I know it helped both of us simply seeing each other. I also want to thank you for not shutting me out of everything going on with you. It means alot that you still trust me enough to let Richard read me in -- Just, thanks, Jim.

I hope you are feeling better by now. I’m sure Len is taking good care of you, and let the man mother-hen you. He needs it right now. Len and I will be fine, Jim. We’re both too stubborn to give up, and frankly, I’ll never give up. I love him too much, and it’s still frightening to me, these feelings. I don’t like being out of control. I know that you know what that’s like.

If you haven’t heard yet, they released your mother this morning. She’s been cleared and is cooperating with SFI. Sam refuses to talk to anyone, but they have gotten a few other members to talk. There are definitely still many plans in place and threats out there.

Txanton is doing better every day. It’s becoming more likely that he will never walk again, but he’s taking it well. He told me being in a chair isn’t going to stop him from rowing with his crew, and they have been rallying behind him. Philip hasn’t given up of course, researching options, but mostly, he and Allen are just glad he survived. In all honesty he shouldn’t have or should have had a much graver outcome.

That’s really all the news I have. We’re settling back into a routine already on New Vulcan. Security is high. We have an SFI operative on board for the duration of this mission. Apparently they are going to place one on all ships eventually. They are very afraid that Terra Prime is quite entrenched in certain parts of Starfleet. I haven’t been privy to all the meetings, but I’ve heard they are considering questioning techniques and drugs long banned by the Federation.

Well, it’s time for me to get some sleep, Jim. Take care of yourself, son. Let me know if you need anything.

Love,  
Chris


	70. And Shook His Heavy Head

**Title:** And Shook His Heavy Head - (Part 64 of To Talk of Many Things)  
 **Author: mga1999**  
 **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating** : PG-13  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** Discussion of Tarsus. Mentions of rape. Nothing graphic.  
 **Word Count** : 3500  
 **Summary:** The continuing correspondence of... yeah, you know the drill.  
 **Disclaimer:** Any resemblance to anything whatsoever is purely coincidental.  
 **AN** : Apologies for the late update. Work and sickness have been conspiring against me. Thank you to **abigail89** & **weepingnaiad** for the beta. I made a few changes before posting, those mistakes are mine. Next chapter will have something worth waiting for. Promise.

  


**Personal Journal of Christopher R. McCoy Pike**  
 **Wednesday 2261.70**

Sarek and his wife had a healthy baby girl yesterday. They named her Amanda, which I thought was both sweet and a little strange. The rest of her name is Vulcan that I can’t even spell, much less pronounce. Next month, Sarek will bond with a second wife. She was present when Amanda was born. It all seemed so natural. Even Ambassador Spock and his wives were in the waiting room. I can’t even handle one relationship and they are all seemingly living in perfect harmony. I’m sure they’d say it’s logical. Logic my ass, as I’m sure my husband would say. 

I had dinner with the Elder Spock last night and he put a lot of things in perspective for me. Having mind melded with Jim, he assured me that there were no romantic feelings between Jim and my husband before we got together. I will admit him telling me that even back then, they were very deeply ‘bonded’ in their friendship -- well, that wasn’t easy to hear. Not like I didn’t know that, but still, not easy. He gave me some advice that I didn’t ask for, but probably needed. I have a lot to think about. 

I’m getting to know my new CMO and she’s impressive so far. Dr. Sara April. She joined Starfleet shortly after Narada, leaving the private sector, wanting to serve after so many doctors were wiped out. Her husband died during the attack. He was Captain of the Farragut, and a good man. I didn’t know him that well, but he was well liked in Starfleet. She quickly worked her way up and I can see why. She takes no nonsense from me. She’s already been on me about not taking care of myself. She had me in medical yesterday running all kinds of tests. I think she and Len will get on like fire, which I’ll admit, frightens me. 

I don’t know what to do right now. I have had my ring turned down so I can’t see the colours most of the time. He’s happy. My husband is happy. He’s not worrying, he’s not upset, he’s not mad, and he hasn’t even been jerking off. Just happy except for when it’s obvious that he’s sleeping. Sure, there have been a few cloudy times that I’m sure have to do with him worrying about Jim, but -- I don’t know what to think. 

Maybe that’s my problem. I’m thinking too much. When I confided in Spock last night about our issues he looked at me like he didn’t understand why. Damn Vulcans and their logic. Even younger Spock, who’s back from his honeymoon or whatever they call it, had words with me earlier today. _You are upsetting the Doctor and Jim. You should adjust your expectations and cease this illogical behavior before it negatively affects both your relationship with your betrothed and Jim. I fear, Admiral, if you do not, you shall lose not one, but both of them._

Other than getting tough love from two Vulcans, things are otherwise good. I’m running five miles on the treadmill every morning. On my days dirtside I run with Sato or my students. My mother has been quiet on the wedding plans lately in light of everything going on. At this point, we aren’t even sure if our shore leaves are going to line up anymore. There are moments I’m tempted to tell her that we’re already married and to scrap the wedding and we’ll just have a party next time we’re on Earth together. 

Except with everything going on, with the struggles Len and I are having right now, it seems more important now to reaffirm our vows in front of friends and family. I’m just afraid that Len is going to call the whole thing off. Right now, I wouldn’t blame him. 

 

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**  
 **Thursday 2261.71**

Jim is finally doing much better, more than a week after we arrived here. He’s eating. Not as much as he was, but enough that he’ll stop losing any more weight. Surprisingly, he’s not bored. That makes me a bit worried about him. Mentally. By now I thought he’d be itching to get back to Enterprise, but he hasn’t even mentioned it. He has talked to Scotty and tomorrow he has a vid conference with the Admiral in charge of the Terra Prime investigation. Scotty says he can keep them from knowing where Jim is at. I hope that’s true. 

I’m honestly surprised we haven’t had any unwanted visitors. Relieved is more like it. I know Scotty is a sneaky bastard, but he’s really outdone himself. I figured Spock would have tracked Jim down by now, but maybe the hobgoblin is letting Jim have the time he needs. Nah, that would mean the emotionless bastard had a heart. I can’t wait to hear whatever logical ‘platitude’ he has for Jim about this goddamn clusterfuck. Of course, I’m sure he’s still busy with his new wife, and I certainly don’t want to think about _that_. 

We finished paintin’ not only the storage shed, but one of the barns. Funny how Jim talks to Scotty and within a few hours everything we need suddenly appears. It’s been good for both of us. Jim Kirk and a paint sprayer is a sight to behold. I’d never thought the kid would be so good at it. He surprises me at times. When I told him he seemed pretty handy with the sprayer, he just shrugged and talked about it being one of the ways he earned credits before he joined Starfleet. 

I do feel a bit guilty doing all this work with Jim. When Chris was here and wanted to start fixin’ things up, I was against it. Really, I just didn’t want him hirin’ a bunch of strangers to do it. I guess I should have explained that better to him. Somehow, I didn’t picture Chris in overalls with a paint can. Not that we’ve put on overalls, heavens no. Jeans and t-shirts have worked just fine. We’ll probably do the other barn, the horse barn, too, if we don’t get recalled. The horse barn needs a lot more work than paintin’. Wood needs replaced in spots where it’s rotted, and parts of the roof. Not sure if it’s a good idea to let Jim up on a roof. He’s made me nervous enough being up on a goddamn ladder. 

Oh hell. I miss Chris. I started to vidcomm him last night and stopped. This morning I started a comm and didn’t know what to say. That’s the problem right now. Neither one of us know what the hell to say to each other. I’ll admit I took my ring off when Jim and I first started paintin’ and I haven’t put it back on. I have it on a chain around my neck. Jim actually called me on it. I told him I didn’t want it to get lost with all the work we’re doing. His response was ‘Bullshit.’ I shrugged and told him I didn’t want to see the colours swirl on the ring right now. That I needed this time to get my head on straight without knowing what was going on with Chris. He surprised me by nodding and letting it drop. The truth is, while I miss him, I don’t miss fighting with him about Jim. Oh hell, it’s not just Jim. It’s everything. He still wants me back on Exeter. Our relationship’s been like being in a whirlwind since the moment we had our first date. I told Jim that I was starting to understand why Chris was struggling so much with the loss of control he felt being in love for the first time. I’m feeling the same thing in a way. I didn’t know quite how to explain it, and then Jim, the smartass, summed it up quite simply. He told me I was a stubborn son of a bitch that didn’t like giving up control either. Asshole. 

But he’s right. I don’t know where that leaves us. I know it’s wrong to avoid talking to him, but I’m tired of the goddamn drama. I think I need this time here as much as Jim does. Doesn’t stop me from missing Chris something fierce. But right now, I need to get some sleep. I’m not sure what tomorrow holds for Jim after his meeting tomorrow. Hell, I don’t even know who it is, and Jim doesn’t either. I only hope it’s not one of the bastards that has caused him so much trouble since he took command of Enterprise. Jesus. 

 

**To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)**  
 **From: James Kirk (jkirk@starfleet.gov)**  
 **Friday 2261.72**

Chris, 

It was good to see your face earlier. I was surprised, and I’m sure you could see the shock on Bones’ face as well. It meant a lot to me that you sat in on the conference, knowing that you and Admiral Barnett had my back... just thanks, Chris. I’m not sure what I think about Admiral Nogura, but you told me before, that you’d viewed him as an ally with the admiralty, that he was very fair and impartial, exactly why he’s heading the investigation for Starfleet. I think I could tell, but I’m still not exactly trusting my judgment at the moment, especially after learning there were four Terra Prime operatives on the Enterprise. I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me, I mean, being the flagship and me being a target, it makes sense. I’m sorry you had one on the Exeter, too. I made a point, just like you taught me, to get to know every member of my crew, and... Hell, I’d played basketball with Kelton every week since we shipped out. The other three I didn’t know as well; they always seemed to steer clear of me. They aren’t the only members of the crew that do, you know, me being so ridiculously handsome and famous and all. (That’s supposed to make you laugh, old man) But now... Shit. 

I’m sorry Bones took off after Nogura and Barnett cut their connection. Give him some time, Chris. He was pretty rattled when he heard your voice and then saw you. I know he hid it pretty well, but I’m sure the two of us saw it. He’s okay. I would say that I’m taking good care of him, but it’s more like we’re taking care of each other. That’s how it works with us. And I’m sorry if that upsets you, but I’ve told you time and again I’m not going to apologize anymore. He’s my family, Chris. He’s the only person in my life that has never let me down. Even when we had our ‘thing’ and I was being stupid and pushing him away, he didn’t walk away from me, give up on me. He fought for me. I don’t think you will ever understand what that meant to me, what _he_ means to me. I’m sorry, Chris, but that’s just the way it is. 

He’ll fight for you too, Chris. He loves you, but he’s scared. I probably shouldn’t have told you that, but he is. Give him some time. He’s working through just as many things out here as I am. It’s good for both of us being here. If it means anything, I have faith in you, that you’ll do right by Bones. I’m not sure I could have said that even a year ago, and that I’m saying that now, all things considered, I hope you believe me. Besides, I hope you haven’t forgotten that I’ll kick your ass. 

Anyway, I’ll admit I’m a little freaked out with how entrenched Terra Prime has been in Starfleet. Part of me wants to say that I will never look at anyone on my ship the same again, but I know I can’t be like that. It’s not going to be easy for the crew, or even my command staff. Any advice, Chris? I don’t want to act like we haven’t been betrayed, but I don’t want to dwell on it either. Shit. Not exactly something they teach in Command class, huh? 

I’m just hoping it was only those four. Like you heard, Nogura isn’t sure, and until they are, I suppose we’re stuck here. And that isn’t even taking into account that there is still a mark on my head. Part of me wants to say fuck it all, Enterprise is needed out there, but considering most of the recent problems are tied to Terra Prime, I can see how it’s more important to be sure we’re safe. I don’t want to head out to deep space again where there won’t be any help nearby. 

I’m going to go find Bones now. Even though he was rattled after seeing you, I know he won’t let me be far from his sight. I’m sure the intel about operatives still active that are looking for me that Nogura was discussing has him out double checking all the security measures you have in place. Hell, knowing Bones I’ll probably find him sitting on the front porch with his great-great grandaddy’s sawed off shotgun. That should bring a smile to your face, old man. 

Give Ambassador Spock, Sarek and their families my best. 

Love, 

Jim 

 

**To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)**  
 **From: Leonard McCoy (lmccoy@starfleet.gov)**  
 **Sunday 2261.74**

Chris, 

I still don’t know what to say, but I promised Jim I’d write you, and after the emotional roller coaster the kid has been through, there is no way I could let him down. Not now. Christ, I’m sorry, Chris. I’m sorry for this entire mess that shouldn’t have happened. It all seems so silly now. 

I’m not going to be able to write much. I need to get back to Jim. Obviously he’s not doing very well right now. We talked about Tarsus today. He told me everything. Like he was reciting from a book, and not something that happened to him. Goddammit, Chris. It was so bad that _I_ threw up during part of it. He’s been in pretty much a daze since. I know it’s his way of dealing with what he told me today, and considerin’ I’m not handling it very well, I can’t even imagine what he is feelin’ right now. I know you had access to some of the information from that travesty, but Jim said you don’t really know anything, that there was more cover up than people know, even with what was redacted for ‘minors’ in the public record. 

God, I’m just sick for him, Chris. I want to find the motherfucker, and yeah, Jim’s convinced me the bastard is still alive out there - I want him to die the most long, painful death possible. And Winona, that no good excuse for a mother? Jim was still in a goddamn coma when she left! They still didn’t even know if he’d make it and she went back to her ship. Jim shrugs it off, but Jesus, Chris. No wonder the two of them ain’t close. Leaving Jim with her brother her brother was a joke. I’m sure that was so comforting to wake up and find him there considering he beat the shit out of Jim. Bastards. All of them. 

I miss you something fierce, Chris. I hope you know that. I wish you were here right now to hold me, because goddammit, I’m not ashamed to admit that I need you right now. This has really thrown me for a loop, Chris. I knew it was bad, but I never knew it was _that_ bad. Christ. He’s sleeping in the hammock right now, but it’s gettin’ chilly out there so I’m going to wake him and bring him inside. Lord, I don’t know what to do for him, Chris. 

I’m sorry I ran away like a chickenshit after the comm on Friday. If you get this in time, I wouldn’t mind talking to you, seeing your face tonight. I’m gonna get Jim inside, see if I can get some food in him and sedate him for the night. 

I love you, Chris. I hope I get to talk to you. 

Love, 

Len 

 

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**  
 **Monday 2261.75**

 

Jim is still sleeping. He woke up and threw up about 0200 this morning. I knew he was too calm yesterday, that he was bottling it all up. He threw up, he cried, he clung to me and I let him cry himself out until he was exhausted. I got him cleaned up and back in bed and sedated him again. Hopefully he’ll be out until lunch time. I need that time to figure out what to do next. 

I commed Dr. Pagoa for advice. He assured me I was doing everything right and I knew that. I just needed that reassurance. Christ. I feel like a selfish bastard now since I’m the one that told Jim under no certain terms were we leaving here without him telling me about Tarsus. Dr. Pagoa did give me the name of a doctor whose specialty is PTSD, and has actually treated a few Tarsus survivors. I don’t think Jim would ever trust _anyone_ , but I thanked him for the referral. I may call her myself, just to touch base, but only if that’s okay with Jim. Other than what he testified and reported to authorities, he’s never told a soul. He refused to speak to the counselors Starfleet, his mother, and uncle sent him to. They only made it worse. Goddamn unqualified quacks is what they were. 

The only thing holding me together right now is I talked to Chris last night. For two hours, he listened to me, even though I wasn’t really saying anything. I won’t breach Jim’s trust, but Chris knew quite a bit more about Tarsus than I thought. I probably gave away more than I should have reacting to things he said and knew, but goddammit, I needed to talk to someone. He really came through for me, and I can’t explain what that means right now. Especially since it was Jim that had me so upset. He showed me that despite the jealousy he feels, he was calm and comforting. Just like I needed. God, I love him. I told him I’d comm him again in a few days, that I needed some time to get through this with Jim if that’s even possible. He assured me he’d be there and to comm him when I was ready. 

I asked him what to do if the Admiralty wants to talk to Jim in the next few days. I don’t want to jeopardize Jim’s captaincy, but as far as I’m concerned, he’s unfit for command. Hell, he’s unfit for anything right now, and it’s my goddamn fault. Jesus. Chris told me he’d talk to Barnett, that as far as the Admiralty was concerned, Jim was on medical leave, and they didn’t expect to be wrapped up with their investigation for another month. I was relieved to hear that, to put it simply, we’re both hangin’ by a thread right now. But it also scares me. What the hell am I supposed to do with Jim here for another month? How am I going to distract him from - Hell, how am I supposed to distract myself? 

I gone and opened Pandora’s Box and fuck it all. Lord give me the strength to be enough to get Jim through this. But tell me, goddammit, how do I even begin to deal with what happened to my best friend? How do I help him? He was repeatedly starved, beaten to within an inch of his life, choked, revived, and raped. When they found out he’d somehow managed to contact Starfleet, they left him in the blistering sun naked, in that fungus-filled dirt to die. When Starfleet found him he barely had a pulse. I know he’s still the same Jim, but I’d be lyin’ if said I don’t look at him differently now. Now I know exactly where those haunted looks I see in his eyes came from. I want my Jim back. I need my best friend. What if he doesn’t recover from this? 

Before he started talking, he told me I was going to regret asking. 

He was right.


	71. After We’ve Brought Them Out So Far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite everything, things are finally starting to settle down for everyone. Really.

**Title:** After We’ve Brought Them Out So Far - (Part 65 of To Talk of Many Things)  
 **Author:** **Fandom & Pairing:** Star Trek Reboot (aka AOS, ST XI, etc.), Pike/McCoy  
 **Rating** : PG-13  
 **Spoilers:** None  
 **Warnings:** Discussion of Tarsus. Mentions of rape. Child abuse. Nothing graphic.  
 **Word Count** : 3000  
 **Summary:** The continuing correspondence of... yeah, you know the drill.  
 **Disclaimer:** Any resemblance to anything whatsoever is purely coincidental.  
 **Authors' Notes** : Okay, don’t stone me, but this one didn’t make the NC-17 rating I was hoping to get to. I swear the next one will. It will even be a real time treat. Thank you to **abigail89** & **weepingnaiad** for the beta.

 

**To: Christopher Pike (cpike@starfleet.gov)**  
 **From: Philip Boyce (pboyce@starfleet.gov)**  
 **Tuesday 2261.76**

 

Dear Chris, 

Today, three months from the bombing, we moved Txanton to a rehab facility near Stanford. We’re still not giving up on him walking again, but this facility will help him, and us, adjust to his new reality. They also have a top notch research program. We thought getting him away from the city and Starfleet was for the best right now. Plus, he’ll be by his rowing crew which will help him mentally. 

He’s doing well, Chris, and I want to thank you for your regular vidcomm’s to him. Your parents have come by too, as has Annie. Your grandmother sent him some of her incredible butterscotch fudge that he loves so much. He wouldn’t have made it this far without all the love and support, so really, Chris. Thank you. 

My divorce was final yesterday. I was so busy making last minute arrangements for your namesake, that I really haven’t had much chance to think about it. It wasn’t the best time to tell you how things were with me when you were so upset the last time we vidcommed. But I’m fine, Chris. I really am at peace with it. Allen is happy, and no, we aren’t sleeping together anymore. I put a stop to that. The kids are all adjusting. Nathan and Kevin are looking at lofts again. Kianna is back to her normal self. Matthew and Alyssa are doing well and have been visiting when they can. Life goes on, Chris. I don’t regret anything but waiting so long to admit our marriage had been over for years. I’m good though. I promise. 

I also didn’t tell you that I’ve been seeing someone the last couple of weeks. Now, don’t take this the wrong way, Chris, as you can be pretty judgmental, so just keep that in mind before you burst an aneurysm. His name is Liam. He’s one of the assistant rowing coaches. I met him, obviously, when he came to visit Txanton, although I met him before at some of the meets and didn't really take notice. He took me out for coffee after one of his visits. We hit it off. The next day we met for dinner, and then I took him to bed. He’s 26, Chris. I can hear your gasp now, but need I remind you how much younger your husband is? We’ve been open about me not looking for anything serious so soon after the divorce. He knows I’m just looking for some fun, and he’s fine with that. He ended a bad relationship four months ago, so he’s not ready either. But I like him. A lot. I haven’t felt this young, this good, in a long, long time. 

Now to more pressing things we haven’t discussed. Allen will be leaving in two weeks for his last six month assignment before he retires. Yes, William will be going, too. I know the timing seems wrong with Txanton and everything, but we talked it over and this is for the best. I’ll be here with the kids, and then when Allen comes back, I plan on returning to Exeter and he will take over whatever care Txanton needs at that time. Since his needs right now are more medical, it makes sense for me to be here and not the researcher. I should be ready to head back to Exeter when you are heading back after your honeymoon, or shortly thereafter. 

Well, that’s all the news I have right now. I hope things are going well on New Vulcan. I am out of the loop right now, but I have a meeting with Richard on Thursday to be read in on recent developments. I’ll admit, I’m not sure I want to know. In some ways, ignorance has been bliss these last few months, my friend. 

Take care, and I’ll comm you soon. 

Philip 

 

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**  
 **Thursday 2261.78**

To say it’s been a rough week would be a goddamn understatement. We’re doing okay, though. Both of us. He’s talkin’ to me, and I’m talkin’ to him. I’m not sure if you’d told me even six months ago that we could talk to each other - confide in each other like we have the last few days - I would have had you committed to a psych ward. 

While the darkest days of my life so far don’t hold a candle to what he’s gone through, the fact that I’m sharing them with him -- well, he says that has helped him more than anything. I don’t quite know what to say to that. I know that’s true, that half the battle of traumas like he’s experienced is talking about it. Jesus Christ. The kid’s had all that bottled up inside for half his life. 

We mutually agreed that we weren’t goin’ to solve the nightmares he’s having by sedating him. I promised him that I’d only sedate him if I felt his mental or physical health was in dire jeopardy. From the advice I got talking briefly to the PTSD doctor, I was to encourage him to tell me about the nightmares. I knew that. It’s not like I don’t know what to do, it’s just, well, this is _Jim_ and dammit, I can’t mess this up. 

Jim wasn’t keen on telling me about his nightmares at first, but once he did - well, it seems to help. It’s hard. For me. I can’t even express it in words. In some ways, his nightmares have now become mine. When I wrote my last entry, I was sayin’ that I didn’t think I’d ever be able to look at him the same anymore. Yeah, that’s still true, and we talked about that actually. He told me that after my drunken confession about my father, he felt the same way. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to face me, and then when I couldn’t even remember. Jesus. He kept that secret too. And then he said somethin’ to me that surprised me. He told me that if he ever had to face something like I did, that he could only hope to be half as brave as I was. That he honestly didn’t know if he would have been able to do what I did for my father. 

We talked about that in relation to Tarsus. Because he _did_ make life and death choices. He allowed his body to be used by that madman’s whims in hope of saving the other children, some older, some even younger than him, the same fate. I got him to admit that he was indeed raped. He says he never really thought of it like that and goddamn that kid. He looked at it as he got to have sex with women. _“What thirteen year old boy wouldn’t have loved to be in my place, Bones?”_ He tried to paste on one of his sunny smiles, but he knew the truth. I might have possibly lost it at that point and yelled at him for the first time in days which shocked him. He was thirteen fucking years old and that bastard wanted him to impregnate the women he had genetically matched Jim with for his so called eugenics insanity. His virginity was stolen, not because he wanted to, but because he _had_ to. His first time, God, Jim didn’t want to do it. Kodos brought in one of the younger ‘expendable’ kids and held a phaser to his head, and then the bastard watched. Kodos shot the kid later to teach Jim a lesson. 

When Jim didn’t get anyone pregnant the first month, Kodos started beating him. He only withheld food after the second month. It got worse from there. Jim says as far as he knows he didn’t get any of them pregnant. Medically, I’d probably say he was right. He was so young, had barely entered puberty. He remembers five different women and one fifteen year old girl. All of them volunteered for Kodos’s ‘program’. Like they had a choice. Any of ‘em. He told them their children would be the brightest, most beautiful children ever created. That they were startin’ a new world after this ‘purging’ of the unfit. He knows that Kodos killed two of the women he’d been forced to have sex with. He doesn’t know why. He also killed the fifteen year old girl when he found her having sex with an ‘unmatched’ seventeen year old boy. I cannot tell you how relieved I was to find out that Jim was never raped by a man. Apparently Kodos also believed in the one man/one woman fuckwittery. Great, he was not only racist, but add bigoted to his resume too. I can’t believe the bastard is still out there, but after talking to Chris briefly this morning, he told me he wouldn’t be surprised. That the ‘burned body’ mysteriously disappeared in the rescue chaos before they could do a genetic test to confirm it was Kodos.

It helps me writin’ this out. Thinkin’ about it. Jim has been too, but then deleting the entry after. He says he doesn’t ever want to read it again, or heaven forbid, it be found. He says he’ll burn the PADD once he’s done here. We’re still not sure when that will be. Jim is talking to Barnett right now. I didn’t know if he’d be up to it when he commed earlier, but Jim said it would be good for him to take his mind off things. I know he’s right, but I can’t help but worry. 

I still can’t get over Jim calling me brave. I mean, if I’m brave, what does that make him? He and his friends, just kids mind you, saved nearly all the remaining 4,000 colonists after the genocide by managin’ to contact Starfleet. By that time, Kodos was off the rails, killing even those closest to him if they dared question anything. Jim says he lost count how many times Kodos choked him until he passed out. He says he knows he was actually ‘dead’ twice. Kodos loved to lord that over him. He’d choked him so hard he stopped breathing and his heart stopped. Kodos had to have a doctor to revive him. He did that with a couple others that they weren’t able to revive. Christ. That could have been Jim. I threw up when he told me that part. It still turns my stomach now. 

To me, oh hell, to me, he’s the bravest and luckiest bastard I know, probably that I’ll ever know. After all of this I still see him. I may look at him differently, but he’s still my best friend; my family. 

He’s Jim. 

 

 **Personal Journal of Christopher McCoy Pike**  
 **Saturday 2261.80**

I had a long vidcomm with Philip last night. I got to talk to my namesake. Even got to talk to Allen. Philip is right; Allen looks happy. I guess I have to admit they both do. They look, I don’t know, free of the burdens that had obviously been troubling their marriage and their lives for so long. I guess I really never noticed before. I obviously didn’t want to see it. Allen promised to write me during his next assignment, and I promised to keep in touch too. Despite everything, he’s still family to me. I count myself lucky that their divorce is so amicable. I don’t have to choose. 

Life seems to be settling down for everyone -- myself excluded. I don’t know. Maybe I’m being too hard on myself. I still feel at times like I’m in limbo with Len, but I also feel settled, if that makes sense. He commed me briefly a couple of days ago. He had some questions for me about Tarsus. I answered what I could -- what I knew. He thanked me, told me he loved me, that he was sorry, but he had to go. He looked exhausted. But he didn’t want to talk. It took everything I had not to say something stupid that I would regret, and to respect the time he needs. I’m trying. Spock told me I was doing ‘admirably’ today, all things considered. He even admitted to me that he was quite unhappy that Jim has not returned his comms. I assured him that Len was taking good care of him and that I’m sure he’d comm when he was ready. I didn’t tell him anything else. That’s up to Jim if he ever wants to tell Spock about Tarsus or more about his brother. I’m going to go out on a limb and say no. I don’t even think he’ll ever tell me, and yes, that hurts, but I only have myself to blame. 

I’m keeping busy. While I feel like Exeter is on a glorified babysitting job here at New Vulcan, I can’t say I’m not enjoying my time here. The desert climate reminds me of my home in the desert. The crew is rotating down regularly with different assignments. With so much uncertainty right now, it’s good for all of us. I got word today that Starfleet will be assigning more mental health professionals to all ships. Dr. April is looking through the list she was sent to select who she feels will fit the best. She’s been conferring with Philip, so I’m leaving that to them. Ironically, before I met Len I would have been vehemently opposed to so many ‘shrinks’ on board. After seeing a couple myself -- I guess you could say I’ve changed my mind. I don’t think I’d ever be comfortable seeing one on board myself, but I’m glad my crew will have them available if needed. 

Makes me realize how much I have changed since I started seeing Len. Or as Dr. Rossen pointed out to me during our last session, that I’m growing emotionally. Shit. I suppose that’s her nice way of pointing out that I’m not so emotionally stunted anymore. It’s nice to recognize she’s right though. And it makes me feel better about where Len and I are at right now. Sure, we’re going through a rough patch, but we’ll learn from it, move forward, and be better for it. How’s that for mature? 

Christopher Pike is finally growing up. Better late than never, I suppose. Now, I’d better hit the gym before my meeting with the Vulcan council, followed by about six hours of meetings with Starfleet HQ. I’m gonna need all the strength I have to deal with the latter. Then I’m going to record a message to send to Len. I’m not sure what I’m going to say yet, but I want him to know that I’m still here, that I love him, and I’ll be waiting as long as it takes. 

 

**Personal Journal of Leonard H. McCoy**  
 **Sunday 2261.81**

 

Goddamnit. They’ve found out where Jim was and all hell broke loose. Hovercopters. Gaggles of press at the gate. Luckily, they didn’t get any pics and no one made it onto the farm. Several were arrested trying. We’re currently on Enterprise waiting for Barnett to make arrangements for us to go elsewhere. Starfleet security is at my house until the idiots realize we’ve left. Jim didn't need this. He was doing so much better the last twenty-four hours. I know he wishes he could just take Enterprise out and be lost somewhere in the black. But from what Jim told me after talking to Barnett yesterday, they have found even more threats - I told Jim I didn’t want to know. Goddammit. But we’ll talk about it when he’s ready because I know he’ll need to and I _need_ to know. 

I swear am still shaking from that first hovercopter that got too damn close. Next thing I know, alarms were going off. I didn’t know if it was someone going after Jim. I’d been outside for a walk while he was napping inside. Had been by the stream and was halfway back. I haven’t run so fast since I was running after Jim on Enterprise when I’d smuggled him onboard. I was terrified I’d get inside and find him dead by some Terra Prime operative. Jesus. I hit the comm so fast to call Scotty once I saw that he was okay. We were on Enterprise moments later. Shit. 

We’ve only been here about thirty minutes and Jim is talking to Barnett. I needed to calm down, and it still surprises me how much writing in this journal helps. I needed to have something to do. While the Enterprise is mostly deserted, there are still people working onboard and they have us isolated in a room off the transporter bay so as few people possible know we’re here. Scotty went down personally to gather what Jim and I need from the house, and as soon as he gets back, he’s going to clear the way to medical for me to go restock my med kit & supplies for wherever they decide to send us. 

Jim was arguing that he wanted to stay on Enterprise, but he knew that argument was moot. He did have a point that they would think he’d be anywhere _but_ Enterprise, but there are going to be too many people on and off while she’s in Spacedock. Plus, he’d go stir crazy being cooped up in his quarters or wherever they’d demand he stay while onboard. Not to mention a security detail watching his every move. He’s not ready for that scrutiny and he damn well knows it. He barely could look Scotty in the eye. Damn, kid takes on the guilt of the entire universe. 

Well, Jim just finished him comm with Barnett. They are sending a private shuttle so there is no record of one missing from Enterprise. Scotty will beam us aboard the shuttle, and I’ll be the pilot. No one will know where we’re going except me, Jim, and Barnett. 

My hands are shakin’ typing this. 

We’re going to New Vulcan.


End file.
